


Heavy Dirty Soul

by TheCockyUndead



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCockyUndead/pseuds/TheCockyUndead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Civil War, Bucky wakes up, told by Steve that they need to leave. Everyone is coming for him. Everyone being Tony and Ross. Tony just wants some sort of closure, whether that involves Bucky dying, he isn't sure yet. Ross just wants the Winter Soldier, but his intentions aren't clear. All Steve knows is that he can't let Bucky be taken by either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awake My Soul

The pain in his head was crippling, blinding him. He didn't know who he was, where he was, what he was.

He had no name. Only: Soldier, the Asset, Ghost, and on and on. Names that were his, but weren't.

Light pierced through the haze that covered his eyes, and a blurry face swam in his vision.

Awakening meant one thing and he wouldn't be used, not again. He tried to lash out at the face with his arm, his strong arm, but nothing happened. He couldn't feel it.

Panic overwhelmed him. What had they done to him now? He struggled against them, fighting to break loose, even without the help of his metal arm.

"Bucky!" the voice suddenly broke through his head, worming its way into his mind. "Bucky, stop! You've got to calm down. We're here to help."

And just like that, everything fell into place. He was James Buchanan Barnes, but he preferred Bucky. He didn't know where he was, but he was safe. He knew what he was: a soldier, but also a good man, according to Steve.

His eyes snapped open and he jerked forward, only to be stopped by thick restraints that hugged his chest. He looked down, his one remaining arm was also held down, as well as his legs.

Panic surged again. Until he felt a cool hand brush his forehead, grounding him.

"What's happening?" he asked, his throat rough from screams that he didn't remember. He coughed, looking to owner of the hand.

Steve was pale, and his eyes were tight with fear, at what Bucky couldn't say. But he looked better than the last time that Bucky had seen him. Cleaner and healthier.

"We have a problem, Buck," Steve said. He leaned forward, his body conveying the urgency of his words. "They know you're here. They're coming to get you."

Bucky's chest tightened, and his lips curled into a snarl. "When?"

"Thirty minutes at best," a new voice broke into the conversation.

Bucky's eyes flickered to the new voice, annoyed that he hadn't clocked the second person in the room right away. T'Challa stood on Bucky's other side, his arms at his side. Sweat beaded on the King's forehead, hinting at the struggle of Bucky's awakening.

Bucky grimaced, wondering how difficult it had really been to wake him up this time.

Steve's fingers brushed Bucky's arm as he worked the straps that held his friend down. With deft fingers he released both the restraints at Bucky's arm and the one around his chest, before removing the ones on his legs.

"We have to go," Steve said grimly.

Bucky lurched forward, his limbs weak from being asleep in the ice for…

"How long was I out?" Bucky asked as he struggled to straighten.

Steve caught Bucky's arm, slinging it over his shoulder. He started moving them toward a gurney covered with a white cloth, presumably meant for Bucky.

"You've been asleep for over nine months, Mr. Barnes," T'Challa offered as he followed the two men.

Bucky grimaced as Steve helped him lean against the table. It was going to be harder for him to orientate himself after a long stint in the ice. Nine months wasn't as long as it could've been. Hydra had kept him under for years, but he had always had the time to recover before they sent him out. From the urgency in both Steve and T'Challa, Bucky doubted he'd be up to full strength before they had to leave.

"What's changed?" Bucky asked, waving Steve's hand away from the metal stump of his missing arm. "Why are they coming now?"

T'Challa shoulders sagged a little at the question. Bucky could see the weight of Wakanda on the man's back.

"Tony Stark."

Bucky fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "He's still coming?"

"He hasn't stopped looking for you," Steve said.

Bucky looked to his friend, reading the anger and betrayal shining in Steve's blue eyes.

"I left after you went under, planting false trails and hoping that he wouldn't put together the clues that led here. But Tony isn't stupid. It took him nine months to figure it out, but it would have taken the government much longer if he wasn't helping them."

"And now he's coming," Bucky said, straightening. "They're all coming for me."

Steve nodded grimly, reaching out to help Bucky stand. "We can't put T'Challa's people in danger; we need to leave before they come."

"I can protect my people," T'Challa interjected, coming forward with a long black case. "But I appreciate your concern."

He handed the heavy case to Steve who nodded gratefully. Bucky tracked the movement with suspicious eyes.

T'Challa paced to the edge of the room, returning with clothes for Bucky. He handed the bundle to Bucky and then motioned for Steve to follow him to the door, giving Bucky some privacy.

The two of them leaned forward, talking in low whispers.

Bucky knew there was something they weren't telling him, but he also knew that Steve wouldn't keep anything from him if it put Bucky at risk. So he dressed in the clothes he was given and waited for Steve and T'Challa to finish.

They did within minutes. Steve gestured for Bucky to follow him out of the room. He checked his watch as they crossed over the door's threshold.

"We've got about fifteen minutes before they arrive. We have to get out of here before then. T'Challa has offered us a jet and some money, but after that we're on our own."

Bucky shrugged. He'd been in worse situations than this before. Even before he had left Hydra; there had been times when missions had gone sideways and he wouldn't have much to get out of them, but he had always made it out alive. This time wouldn't be any different.

"Then I suggest we move," Bucky said, giving Steve a humorless grin.

* * *

 

Tony Stark knew, deep down in his gut, that this was the wrong play. Not only was it a bad idea to enter Wakanda demanding that the King hand over the wanted prisoners, but he also knew that there would be no coming back with Steve if he let Ross take Bucky away.

But at the same time, Tony wanted Steve to feel at least a part of the pain he felt at Steve's betrayal. That was his petty side. His other more, logical side, also clamored to be heard.

Barnes—no, the Winter Soldier, was dangerous. Barnes was just a man that was unfortunate enough to survive the fall down a mountain only to be picked up by Hydra and be brainwashed into thinking he was their Soldier. Barnes, from what Steve had told him, was a good man and an even better friend. Barnes was also the man that housed the Winter Soldier and could be activated with the correct words. So, yes, the Winter Soldier was dangerous, but so was Bucky Barnes.

Barnes needed to be put somewhere safe where the right people would take care of him, where the wrong people wouldn't be able to get their hands on him.

Those were all the arguments that the logical side of Tony told himself, but the emotional side of him also wanted to see Barnes suffer for what he did. Not just for Tony's parents, but also for all the other innocent people that were killed at Barnes' hands.

After his last meeting with Steve, Tony had taken a couple of months to recover before he began his search for the missing men. It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to finally find them in Wakanda, under the protection of King T'Challa.

That betrayal didn't sting as much as Steve's had. T'Challa had only ever been on Tony's side to avenge his father's death, not to stop Steve, not to bring Barnes in. Besides, Tony was beginning to expect everyone to betray him. Seemed like it was the name of the game these days.

"Mr. Stark, focus please," Ross' voice sounded through Tony's Iron Man helmet.

Tony rolled his eyes; the man had insisted on coming with the strike team to bring in Rodgers and Barnes, but like Tony had told him, he was an old man who wouldn't last one round with either Steve or Barnes. That meant he was forced to stay back on the jet and watch the events unfold from the cameras placed on the men. It also meant that he was in Tony's ear.

"Hmm," Tony responded.

"You know better than anyone that Rogers is dangerous. Both he and Barnes combined is lethal. So get your damn head into the game," Ross said, annoyed at Tony's lack of response.

Tony grimaced; despite Ross being a major prick, he wasn't wrong about Steve or Barnes. Barnes, alone, had almost taken him out and Tony wasn't sure that he would have walked away from a fight with the Winter Soldier if he hadn't been running on anger and vengeance.

He already knew that Steve could kick his ass and that was only proved during the fight. Steve could've killed him if he wanted to and for a moment, Tony was almost positive that Steve was about to do it.

Separate the two of them could _probably_ take him down. Together they were deadly.

Tony's helmet focused on the large windows that graced the side of King T'Challa's mansion. Inside there were men and women in white lab coats and despite their calm façade, Tony could see their tense shoulders and tight lips.

He frowned, looking harder into that room. What was it about that room that had the men and women so amped up?

There was a long, clear, cylinder in the center of the room. The glass of the tube was frosted over, only just beginning to melt. To the left of the tube was tables filled with papers and microscopes and then to the right was a gurney, the white sheet rumbled from recent use.

Tony inhaled sharply. "I'll be damned."

"What?" Ross demanded.

Tony ignored him, instead he powered his thrusters towards that side of the building, intending to land and get an up-close look at that room.

Landing on large stone balcony, Tony immediately set out towards the double glass doors that led inside. His steps faltered as he caught sight of a grim looking T'Challa standing at the doors with his arms crossed over his grey suit.

Swallowing, Tony pushed on, his helmet sliding back to reveal his face.

"King T'Challa," Tony said, entering the building. He kept his tone respectful; he didn't want to piss the guy off, he had seen the damage Black Panther had caused.

"Tony Stark," T'Challa returned. "Why have you come here?"

"We know you're housing Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, and James Buchanan Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier. They're prisoners of the United States of America and, with respect, you need to hand them over," Tony stopped. Ross' words felt heavy on his tongue, but he didn't have any of his own for the King of Wakanda.

T'Challa, for his part, didn't look impressed. He shifted, his black shoes making small squeaking sounds against the tile floor. "How do you know this?"

"I tracked them here," Tony said. "The 'how' is complicated, but the 'why' is simple. Barnes is dangerous. You know this. And Steve, well, Steve is dangerous as long as Barnes is around."

T'Challa's lips tightened.

"Listen, I'd love to keep chatting with you, but there's a room that I'm very interesting in seeing," Tony said, sidestepping T'Challa, who let him go.

His metal feet were loud against the floor and were the only sound when he stepped inside the room that he had seen from the outside.

The men and women inside were frozen, staring at him. It looked as if they had stopped their work the minute Tony had entered the building.

Ignoring them, Tony paced forward to the glass cylinder that had captured his attention. Tony let his metal hand slide away so that his real, flesh one remained. He pressed a finger against the cool surface of the glass. His fingerprint melted the remaining ice away in that area.

Tony's eyes flickered to the gurney that he had seen, noting the creases in the white sheet and the tight straps that hung from the sides.

"Tony, dammit, listen to me!" Ross' voice finally registered in his ear. Rolling his eyes, Tony put a finger to his ear.

"Yes, dear?"

"Check that attitude, Stark," Ross snapped. "I'm coming in."

It didn't take Ross long to come marching through the doors dressed in black fatigues, a dark scowl on his face.

He gave Tony a long look, his eyes traveling to the glass tube that had captured Tony's attention.

"What's that?" He gestured with his chin, coming to stand next to Tony.

Tony gave Ross a sidelong look. "This," he said, trailing his bare finger down the frosted glass, "is what T'Challa was using to keep Barnes. It's a cryochamber," he added at Ross' blank look.

Ross' mouth twisted, his moustache twitching above his lips. "So you were right. They are here."

"Were," Tony corrected. "They were here. Not anymore."

"We don't know that for sure," Ross said, pressing a finger to the earpiece fixed in his ear. "Send men through the compound; I want everything searched. Stay on your toes, boys, the Captain and Barnes might still be here."

He turned to Tony.

"They're not here, Ross," Tony said. "Do you honestly think that Steve wouldn't have caught wind of what we're up to? He's been on the run for nine months, he's still got friends within what remains of SHIELD—he knows how to evade us."

Ross glared, but gave a grudging nod. "What about the rest of them? Any sign on them?"

Tony's stomach clenched at the thought of the rest of his "friends." They had chosen to side with Steve and apparently had no regrets about it either. Of course, he had managed to find Scott Lang without much difficulty, but decided that Lang had enough problems without adding Ross to the mix. Besides, Tony doubted that Steve had really even filled the man in on what they had been fighting about. The others were harder. Natasha was a ghost, and Clint wasn't far behind her in that department. Tony had no doubt that Clint had taken Wanda under his wing so she was gone too. That left Sam. Sam would follow Steve anywhere, which meant that he was probably with Steve and Barnes now.

"Stark."

Tony jerked a little at Ross' tone. He shook his head rapidly. "Nope. No sign of any of them."

Ross narrowed his eyes at the other man, suspicion shining clearly in them.

"C'mon," Tony said. "We should talk to the King about what exactly he thought he was doing housing a dangerous assassin."

* * *

 

Sam wasn't exactly Bucky Barnes' number one fan (that place was reserved for Steve Rogers), but he was Steve's friend and he would do whatever Steve needed from him. And Steve needed to save Bucky, whatever the cost. This had gotten Sam more trouble than he thought was possible, but he didn't regret helping.

Sam couldn't help the little glances back to Barnes, while he flew the jet out of Wakanda. Bucky was slumped against the side of the jet. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed. He looked exhausted, which seemed backward to Sam because all that Bucky had been doing was sleeping for the past nine months. Bucky's missing arm looked out of place on the man, but Sam didn't doubt that Bucky could still choke him out with his one good hand.

Sam's eyes shifted from Bucky to Steve, who sat on his right. Steve was watching Sam, who guiltily tried to hide the fact that he had been frowning at Bucky.

"What?" Steve asked quietly. "What's with that look?"

Sam shrugged. "How's he doing?"

Steve's eyebrows drew together at the non-answer. "He's not great, but he'll be okay."

"Good."

There was a pause.

"What's the matter, Sam? You keeping eyeing Bucky like he's gonna jump you."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sam muttered.

"He's not the same—," Steve started.

"I know, I know," Sam interjected. "You've been over it and I understand better than most what war does to a man."

"But?" Steve prompted.

"But that doesn't change that whether he likes it or not, Barnes is a threat."

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Sam didn't let him. "We saw what happened in Berlin. Zemo said the magic words and bam, no more Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn. He could've killed us and he wouldn't have even known. It doesn't matter that he's trying to change, what matters is that whoever has those damn words has him."

Steve's lips thinned, but he didn't disagree.

"Who has them? The words?" Sam asked.

"Who do you think?" Steve said sharply. "The CIA have Zemo, who in turn had the red book. Ross and Tony have the words." Steve's throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly. "If they get their hands on him, they can say the words and make him do whatever they want."

"The question is," Sam said slowly, "what do they want?"

"We don't know," Steve said. "Nine months ago, I would've told you that Tony wouldn't do something like this. That he wouldn't try to capture Bucky, but now, I don't know what Tony is thinking. Ross is simpler. He wants us under his thumb. He's wanted that from the start. Sure it's his thumb _and_ the rest of the United Nations, but he's the one that they sent to us. He's got more than just good intentions about keeping the Avengers in check up his sleeve."

Sam snorted. "I didn't like that guy from the minute he stepped inside."

Steve's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me either." His face darkened again as he glanced over his shoulder to his sleeping friend. He let out a slow breath. "I just want him to be safe, you know?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Steve ran a hand through his short hair. "This is a mess, Wilson, and I don't know how to get us out of it."

Sam gave Steve a long look. "It's not your job to save us. We can take care of ourselves, even your friend back there can protect himself. Don't keep all this on your shoulders, man. Let us help. We'll figure something out. We always do."

Steve gave Sam a grateful smile.

"So, where to next, Captain?"

Steve gave a vague shrug. "Not sure—," he stopped abruptly as Bucky gave a sudden yell from the back of the plane.

Both he and Sam jerked around at the sound, but Bucky hadn't moved from his slumped position. His arm was twitching and his face was contorted into a painful grimace.

Sam and Steve shared a look.

"He's dreaming," Sam said.

Bucky let out another tortured yell, prompting both men to surge their feet.

* * *

 

The blood wasn't a surprise. That's expected when you repeatedly punch someone's face. No, the surprise was from the man's reaction. He didn't recoil in fear from the Soldier, but almost leaned towards his deadly embrace. The Soldier had expected pleading and fear, but received none. Instead his target had looked up at him first with familiarity and then shock when the Soldier began to beat him with his fist.

The man's blood stained the Soldier's silver hand, but that didn't matter. The man is dead and soon the woman will be too. Soon, they'll just be two more faces to add to the list of ghosts that haunt his dreams.

He circled around the back of the car to the passenger side, the woman was helpless in her tangled seatbelt. Using his flesh hand, the Soldier pressed his fingers against her throat, squeezing. He could feel her throat bobbing under his palm and her hands that began to claw at his, but he didn't feel the pain that came from her nails.

Her movements slowed and then stopped. The Soldier released his grip around her neck and stepped back to observe his handiwork.

Two more kills for the Soldier, two more faces to add to his collection.

"Bucky," a voice entered the Soldier's head. "Bucky."

He frowned at the distraction, but knew that he couldn't ignore this new threat.

"Bucky, you need to wake up—oof." The Soldier lashed out, his flesh hand hitting something soft.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, the Soldier disappearing into the depths of his mind. He jerked up, but a firm pair of hands clutched at his chest and shoulders. Sam Wilson's face swam into view above him, eyes dark.

Bucky looked away from Wilson to where he had knocked Steve away from him. He grimaced at Steve sitting in a heap at his feet. Even without his more powerful metal arm, Bucky was still able to catch Steve pretty good on his jaw; a red mark was stark against Steve's skin. He rubbed at it ruefully.

"That'll teach me to stick my head where it doesn't belong," Steve said, catching Bucky's eyes. "You back with us, buddy?"

Bucky gave a short nod, before turning his attention to where Sam still held him down. He gave Sam a dark look that conveyed his feelings on being touched by Wilson.

Sam loosened his grip and stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, man, you were thrashing around; Steve thought you were going to hurt yourself."

Bucky ignored Sam and leaned forward, pressing his hand against his forehead. His dark hair fell around his face, shielding him from Steve and Sam.

There was a silent conversation going on above his head, Bucky knew, but didn't care; his head was pounding in time with his wild heart. He took a silent breath, forcing his heart to slow its beat, to calm down.

A scuffle of a boot against the floor of the jet told him that someone had left; probably Sam, leaving him alone with Steve.

The metal bench that he sat on warped a little as Steve sat down next to him. He could feel Steve's hesitation beside him. Steve's hand hovered above his hunched back.

"I'm okay," Bucky said, his voice muffled. He shifted and straightened, turning to face Steve's concerned face. "I'm fine. This happens."

Steve frowned, dropping his hand to his lap. "What happens? Nightmares?"

"No," Bucky said, "memories."

Steve grimaced.

"I can usually keep them at bay," Bucky continued, his eyes leaving Steve's worried eyes, focusing on a point over his friend's shoulder. "Whenever they pulled me from cryosleep, the memories started up. They come, one-by-one or sometimes all at once. There was always a short stint between me waking and them scrambling my brain to chase away my thoughts, but that time was the worst." Bucky stopped abruptly. He moved his gaze back to Steve, who had a mixture of disgust and anger splayed across his features.

"My point," Bucky continued, "is that this is normal."

"You don't want me to worry," Steve finally said. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Bucky gave him a forced smile. "Something like that."

"Too late," Steve mumbled, brushing a hand across his tired eyes.

Bucky winced as he caught sight of the bruising he had given to Steve's jaw.

"It's best to let me be," Bucky said, nodding to Steve's jaw.

"You know I can't do that," Steve said, suddenly very serious.

Bucky swallowed slightly. Steve's words were double edged; he wasn't just talking about letting Bucky push through the memories on his own, he was talking about Bucky in general. He wasn't going to leave Bucky to wolves that were coming.

Steve tried to hold Bucky's eye, but his friend suddenly became very interesting in his remaining hand twisted on his lap. He wanted Bucky to realize that he wasn't going to leave him; he knew that Bucky _did_ know this, especially after everything that had happened with Tony, but it wouldn't stop Steve from reinforcing this idea.

Steve eyed Bucky's metal stump, although it was hard to get a good view of it from where he sat. He knew that something would have to be done about that if Bucky was going to be able to fight for himself. Not that Bucky wouldn't be able to fight with just one arm; his friend was capable of seemingly impossible feats.

Of course, Steve already had a solution; he and T'Challa had discussed at great length what was to be done when Bucky woke up. T'Challa told his engineers and scientists what he needed and since he was King, they got to work on it right away.

Steve's eyes flickered to the long black case that T'Challa had given him. It sat across from him, pushed under the metal bench that lined the wall of the small plane.

Steve stood up, looking down at his hunched friend. His mouth filled with words he wanted to tell Bucky, but he sighed and kept it simple.

"Get some more rest, Buck. We're going somewhere safe." He turned on his heel, heading back to the front of the plane when he heard Bucky's soft reply: "Yeah, but safe for how long?"

* * *

 

T'Challa denied holding Steve and Bucky in his palace or even in his country. Tony wasn't the only one who knew it was bullshit. But there wasn't much they could do; this wasn't their country and they couldn't exactly arrest the King of Wakanda.

Ross was positively seething across from Tony on the trip back to their home base in their private jet.

"They were there. We could've ended this."

Tony slouched further down in his plush chair, closing his eyes. "Yeah, we might have been able to bring them in, but it wouldn't have ended there."

Ross narrowed his eyes at the dark haired billionaire. He swirled his glass of bourbon, the ice clinking against each other and the sides of the cup.

"Do you even have a plan for how to end this, Ross?" Tony continued, keeping his eyes shut. "I'm only seeing two ways that this mess ends. First," Tony stabbed a finger into the air, "we managed to somehow bring in both Steve and Barnes—then what? We put them both in the Raft. But we already know that won't hold them. So then what do we do with them? _I_ don't know what we do. Option two," Tony's first finger was joined by a second, "we kill them."

Ross stilled in his seat.

Tony straightened and opened his eyes to meet Ross' grimly. "Obviously, I don't want option two."

Ross snorted softly. "Nine months ago you did."

"Well, I don't want Steve dead," Tony amended. "I could live if Barnes accidently died."

"You think the only way they would die is by accident?"

"Clearly, you want them alive, Ross, there's no way you'd give the order for them to be killed."

"You've grown cold in your old age, Stark," Ross said. "You really wouldn't think twice if Barnes died?"

"Not that you knew me when I was a young lad," Tony said, "but no, I don't think I would lose sleep over Barnes." Tony adverted his eyes; he didn't mention the countless sleepless nights that already plagued him. The faces that already haunted his mind wouldn't mind the company of one more. Tony was willing to add Barnes to that company if it meant that his mom and dad were avenged.

He knew that type of thinking wasn't fair; Barnes was only the face of what had actually had his parents killed. Hydra was the true killer of Howard and Maria, but Barnes was the one that had done the deed. Tony didn't think he was ever going to forget the security footage of the stoic man calmly beating his father to death before moving on to his mom. The images were glued to the back of his eyelids and he saw them every time he closed his eyes.

But thinking about it like this was only succeeding in making him angry all over again. At Steve and his constant protection of Barnes, his lack of faith that maybe Tony would have been able to move past this if only Steve had come forward when he found out. At Barnes for being a victim, for not having control over his past actions, for not being the one that Tony could justifiably put all his blame on.

Tony pulled himself out of that black train of thoughts.

"So," Tony continued, ignoring Ross' scrutinizing gaze, "why do you want them?"

Ross didn't answer right away. He took a small sip of his drink, setting the glass down on the small table that separated them. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're the genius, Stark, you tell me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You could want them for any number of reasons. Control. You don't want two super soldiers running around willy nilly. Justice. You want to be the hero that brings the Winter Soldier to justice for the crimes that he's committed." Tony stopped. "I could go on, but I'd rather if you just cut the shit and told me what's going on."

"Not bad, Stark," Ross said. "Not bad at all."

Tony frowned.

"Unfortunately, you're not cleared to know why I want them. So until you are, I'm afraid you're in the dark," Ross continued.

"Bullshit," Tony said. "You're not telling me because you don't trust me."

"I don't trust anyone," Ross said. "Don't take it personally."

Tony sat forward. "You really don't trust me after everything that's happened? _I_ stood with the Accords even when it split my team, my friends, down the middle and you still think that I can't be trusted?"

"Yes, you stood with me, but when the Raft was under attack you let them get away. I know that you believe in the Accords, Stark, but when you have to choose between me and them, you'll always choose them."

Tony chewed on his lip to stop himself from blurting out the first few dozen words about just what he thought about Ross and his reasoning. After he managed to stop that, he actually took a moment to think about what Ross was saying.

He sat up when he figured it out, glaring at Ross. "So whatever you have planned has to do with the team. You think because I chose them that I won't stand for what you're going to do."

"That's part of it," Ross allowed.

"What's the other part?" Tony demanded.

"The other part is simply that I'm just not allowed to say because you don't have the proper clearance."

Tony took a slow, deep breath. Since when had he ever let something like clearance stop him from finding out what he wanted to know? Never, that's when.

Ross' shady attitude was making Tony's stomach flip; he knew that whatever was going on he probably wasn't going to like.

* * *

 

Berlin. CIA Base.

Zemo stared back at the CIA agents that were glaring at his glass cage. The three suited agents, mirrored each other's stances with their arms crossed over their chests.

"He's not going to speak to us," one of them finally said, turning to his fellow agents.

"Ye of little faith, Hardy," the sole woman of the three answered. "He doesn't need to tell us his life story."

"Locke's right," the final agent put in. "He just needs to tell us what to expect when we use the book. Ross doesn't want to fly blind when dealing with the Winter Soldier."

"We have all the information we need from the book," Locke added. "Whoever was writing it was detailed about his reports. This," she gestured to Zemo, "is just a precaution. It's more information to what we already have."

"But we don't even have him," Hardy interjected. "The Rosses are basing our assignment on the faint hope that the Winter Soldier will come out of hiding soon and that we'll be able to easily find him. He was gone for two years after DC, and even before that he was a ghost."

"It only took one person to report a sighting of him nine months ago for us to find him," Locke said. "It'll happen again and we'll get him."

"You're awfully confident," Hardy muttered.

Locke ignored this, focusing her attention back to Zemo's sullen face. He wasn't going to tell them anything. He had lost the will to live after he had completed his mission to tear the Avengers apart. He was only alive because King T'Challa had stopped his attempted suicide and now in the CIA's hands they weren't going to let him starve himself to death.

The Secretary of State Ross thought he would be useful when they finally got their hands on the Winter Soldier, so he was a high priority prisoner.

Locke's lips curled a little at the thought of her boss, Everett Ross, working with Thaddeus Ross. The two men were both eager to bring in the Winter Soldier, but it was unclear what they planned to do after that impossible task was completed. She didn't see the two men working well together, both of them were used to being in command and giving orders that they expected to be carried out promptly. But, Locke supposed they would make it work; they had a common goal after all.

A phone buzzed.

"This is Branson," the remaining agent said, answering it. He listened, grimacing a little. "I understand, sir." Listening for a few more moments, Branson finally said, "We're on our way."

He put his phone away, motioning for the others to follow him out of the room. "That was Everett. He said Ross just checked in and that they weren't able to get him."

Both Hardy and Locke released their hopeful breaths.

"But they were close," Branson continued. "Ross says they couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. He and Stark are heading back to their home base in Africa to regroup and try to figure out where Rodgers would go next. They'll probably be heading back here soon."

"What does Everett want from us?" Hardy asked, the three of them staying in step with each other.

Branson glanced to his left to the other agent. "He's getting annoyed about Zemo's lack of communication, but he never really thought that Ross' plan to get Zemo to talk would work. He wants us working another angle."

"What angle? We've got nothing else," Locke said.

"Apparently we do," Branson said.

"What?"

"Not what," Branson said. "Who."


	2. Running With Wolves

Despite Steve’s promise of a safe place to stay, he was having trouble coming up with said place for them to lay low. He knew that going back to the States wasn’t possible and most of Europe was out of the question.

They needed to come up with a place soon; the jet was going to run out of fuel sooner rather than later.

Steve could feel Sam’s eyes on him, but the gaze wasn’t accusing; Sam just wanted to know what their next move was. He felt a pang of regret for getting Sam mixed up in this mess, but he knew that Sam wouldn’t have it any other way and for that he was grateful. It was a comfort to know that someone unfailingly had his back.

Steve looked up and over to his friend, meeting Sam’s brown eyes.

“So?” Sam asked. “What’s the plan?”

Steve heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. It seems like anywhere we turn is going to lead them right to us.”

“We’re gonna need to land this bird somewhere, and soon,” Sam said. “Not to rush you or anything.” He cracked a smile.

Steve halfheartedly returned the expression. “I know. I’m working on it.”

“I think I know where we can go.”

Both Sam and Steve startled at the sound of Bucky’s voice at their elbows. They spun in their seats to see Bucky standing behind them, hunching a little so that his head wouldn’t graze the ceiling.

“Where?” Steve asked cautiously.

“There’s this small town in Germany—,”

“Nah, man,” Sam said, cutting him off. “Germany is a no go. The CIA have a base in Berlin. The place will be crawling with agents, all looking for us.”

Bucky trained his hard blue eyes on Sam.

Sam swallowed a little at the coldness that glimmered in them, but he didn’t drop his gaze.

“Hey,” Steve said, cutting into their impromptu staring contest. “Sam’s right. Germany might not be a good place for us to go.” None of them mentioned the events that had transpired last time they were there.  

Bucky broke eye contact with Sam, turning to Steve. “I know that. There’s a small town, nowhere near Berlin or any big city,” he paused and his voice dropped. “It’s a safe place.” He frowned a little as he finished his sentence. His mouth worked, as if the words hadn’t been his own.

Steve reached a hand out, touching Bucky’s remaining arm as the silence stretched.

Bucky flinched at the contact, but seemed to come back to himself. He cleared his throat. “It’s small, out of the way, they wouldn’t think to look for us there.”

Sam half raised his hand, drawing the other two’s attention to him. “Um, can we get back to how you know it’s a safe place?” He didn’t mention that what he really wanted to know was why Bucky had reacted the way he had, but both Steve and Bucky knew that’s what he meant.

Bucky took a step forward, somehow making the movement look threatening in the enclosed space. He leaned his upper body towards the other man, glaring into Sam’s face. It looked like he was about to say something, but Steve beat him to it.  

“Whoa, easy,” Steve warned, pulling on Bucky’s arm. He eased Bucky back, out of Sam’s space. “If Bucky thinks it’s a good place to go, then I say we go. I trust Bucky’s judgment and it’s not like we have any other ideas.”

Sam shot Steve a look; it wasn’t hard to read Sam’s feelings on Bucky’s judgement.

“Sam,” Steve said, holding the other man’s gaze. “It’s worth a shot.”

Sam shook his head, turning his back on Bucky and leaning into his seat. He didn’t say anything, but Steve knew that this meant he had won and that Sam wouldn’t say a word about it again.

“Good,” Steve said, eyeing the controls of the jet. “Let’s set the coordinates and get a move on.” He reached for the controls.

“I’ve got it,” Sam said, lightly slapping away Steve’s hands and taking control of the jet again.

Steve waited a beat as Sam shifted their course, but when Sam resolutely ignored both of them, he got to his feet, motioning for Bucky to follow him.

Bucky did so without complaint, silently shadowing his friend to the back of the jet.

Steve sat heavily on the bench that he had only vacated a short while earlier. He gestured for Bucky to sit next to him again.

Bucky hesitantly did so, eyes lighting up suspiciously. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the long strands back and out of his face.

Steve tracked the movement, feeling a familiar ache in his chest as he remembered Bucky doing that exact same motion, only his hair had been short then and his eyes weren’t full of pain and regret.

“What?” Bucky finally asked, dropping his hand to his lap. His hair fell back around his face, the previous motion of pulling the hair back rendered useless.

“Nothing,” Steve said, clearing his throat. He didn’t want to remind Bucky of all that he had lost by constantly bringing up the past. The good memories were okay, the bad memories were necessary, but the memories of the little things, of who Bucky had been when no one was watching—those were off limits. For now, anyway.

Bucky didn’t believe him, but he also didn’t call Steve out on it. Instead, he waited for Steve to make the first move.

Steve got to his feet, crossing to the opposite side of the jet. He crouched down, hands grasping the handle of the black case that he had wedged down there when they had boarded the jet.

He pulled it out and retreated back to Bucky’s side.

Bucky eyed the case on Steve’s lap with distrust. He didn’t ask what it was, knowing that Steve would tell him in his own time.

Steve’s fingers curled over the edge of the case, suddenly deciding to address another concern before moving onto what was inside the case.

“Why do you have such a problem with Sam?” Steve said, the question abrupt.

Bucky’s eyes flickered up from the case to Steve’s face. He frowned at the suddenness of the topic, but ignored the case for the moment.

“Because he has a problem with me.”

Steve gave a half shrug; he should have expected that. “You know you can’t threaten everyone who has a problem with you.” His mouth quirked slightly.

Bucky’s teeth flashed into a quick smile. “Yeah, because then I’d be threatening everyone.”

“Not me,” Steve said.

“You’d be the only one.”

“You can trust Sam,” Steve said, the conversation turning serious again. “ _I_ trust him with my life.”

Bucky nodded. “I know.”

“Then why can’t you?”

Bucky frowned, his eyebrows pulling low over his eyes. “Because. Trust isn’t something that was programmed—it doesn’t come easy. Not anymore.”

Steve swallowed. There it was. The damned programming that Hydra had done to his friend was coming back to haunt them again and again. Trust wasn’t something that the Bucky from Steve’s past had been good at either, but he had been more willing and open to it than this new Bucky. Steve knew that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, but it hurt to be reminded (again) of everything that was gone, erased, from Bucky’s life.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky offered when Steve didn’t say anything.

Steve immediately straightened, frowning. “Don’t say that. It isn’t your fault.”

Bucky snorted, causing Steve’s frown to deepen. At the questioning look from Steve Bucky said, “You keep telling me that as if I don’t know, but what am I supposed to say? Nothing? I _know_ I had no control over what they did to me, I know that, but it doesn’t change the reality of what happened. What else can I do but apologize? It’s some semblance of control that I can show over the past,” he paused. “It’s all I’ve got, Steve.”

Steve gave a slow nod; he understood, it was just hard for him to not jump to his friend’s defense, to make him understand that everything that had happened was out of Bucky’s control. But that was just the problem: Bucky never had control. From the moment he dropped from the freight car over the mountains, he had lost his ability to make his own choices; he had lost his free will, the one thing that all human beings possessed. Hydra took away his free will, trying to make him less than human and they had almost succeeded.

“Then I guess, asking you and Sam to be friends is out of the question?” Steve finally said, attempting to lighten the dark cloud that hung over them.

Bucky cracked a faint smile. “I think that’s stretching it, punk.”

Steve returned the smile, and for a moment the two of them were the same friends that they had always been. Then Bucky’s eyes dropped to the case still clasped in Steve’s hands.

“Right,” Steve said. “This.” He shook the case gently. “You’re wondering what this is, right?”

Bucky nodded.

“T’Challa and I talked a lot about what would happen if they ever came for you. In fact, we prepared for it. We hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but we also knew it wasn’t realistic to think that they wouldn’t eventually find you. T’Challa had a jet ready for us, or just you, in case I didn’t get to Wakanda in time. He gave us some money and fake papers, so that we’d be ready to leave as soon as possible,” Steve said.

“But?” Bucky prompted after a few beats of silence.

“But,” Steve agreed, “that wouldn’t be enough if the people after us were determined. And, when it comes to you, they will be. Every government wants their hands on you, whether it’s to bring you to some form of justice for what Hydra made you do or to possess you for your skillset, and they’re willing to go far to get what they want.”

Bucky hesitantly nodded; they knew all this already.

“We couldn’t leave you defenseless, Buck,” Steve said, finally undoing the locks on the case and slowly prying it open. Inside a metal arm gleamed, snuggly sitting among black padding. The arm was silver, like it had been before, but this arm was different somehow. It looked stronger, more powerful.

“What the hell is that?” Bucky whispered, his eyes glaring at the arm. “Why would you bring that?”

“You need to be able to protect yourself,” Steve said. “You can’t do that if you’re missing an arm.” He had expected resistance from Bucky on this front, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I can protect myself fine as I am,” Bucky said, but they both knew that argument was weak.

Steve opened his mouth to start listing the countless arguments that he had prepared for this moment, but Bucky cut him off.

“I don’t want it, Steve.”

The words halted in Steve’s mouth, useless. The one thing that Bucky could have said to make Steve listen was those words and Bucky knew it. He knew that Steve hated that Bucky had never had the ability to make his own choices, and he was using it against Steve.

Bucky didn’t wait for Steve to say anything before he got to his feet and moved back to the front of the jet. He sat in Steve’s recently emptied seat. Steve could see Sam giving Bucky a surprised glance, but he didn’t say anything. Both men were silent in their mutual dislike of each other, but both had the understanding that while Steve was their best friend they were both annoyed with him at the moment. So for now, they were hesitant allies.

Steve frowned at the backs of their seats, snapping the case closed. It hadn’t gone how he had hoped, but he had been strangely optimistic that Bucky would go along with it. Clearly he was wrong.

Despite wanting to respect Bucky’s decisions, Steve wasn’t ready to give up on this. He would try again to convince his friend, but for now he would let it be.

* * *

 

 Tony was having a hard time finding the information he needed. The information that Ross was hiding from him was strangely elusive and didn’t seem to be hiding anywhere.

That could mean a few things. One: Tony wasn’t as good as he thought he was, but Tony highly doubted this was the reason. Two: They had upgraded their protection and Tony just hadn’t been able to crack through it yet. Three: All the information was through word of mouth or paper format.

Tony refused to believe the first, the second seemed doubtful seeing as Tony had been attempting to find the information for a few hours now, but that left the third which seemed almost the most ridiculous in this technology infused world.

He rubbed a thumb over his eye, massaging the growing headache. He and Ross had gotten back to their home base in Africa, but Tony had insisted that he wouldn’t be able to find Steve and Barnes again unless he had his proper equipment, not the shit that they had on base. Ross had grudgingly allowed Tony to get back on his jet and leave for Berlin early. Berlin because they were cooperating with the CIA base there; Tony hadn’t thought much about it seeing as that’s where they had brought Barnes the first time they managed to catch him. 

Ross had wanted to make sure that Steve and Barnes weren’t hiding somewhere close by before leaving himself, but even he knew that Steve hadn’t stuck around and would probably be following Tony back soon.   

That gave Tony some time to find out what he needed, but at this rate he was getting nowhere.

With a disgusted sigh, Tony sat back against the plush cushions of the chair. He pushed the tablet he had been working on away from him on the desk that the CIA had supplied for him. The desk was also holding a large computer that Tony was supposed to be using to track down Steve again, but he wasn’t having any luck on that end either.

Glancing around the room that he had been shoved into, Tony spotted what he was looking for. Getting to his feet he crossed the small space to retrieve a tumbler and a bottle of Kentucky bourbon that he had specifically asked for. He uncorked the top of the bottle, pouring a generous amount into his glass. Tony ignored the ice, preferring the drink neat.

He took a long swallow of the liquid, trying not to think about what a waste the trip to Wakanda had turned out to be.

There was a brisk knock at the door of the office, and without waiting for a confirming word from Tony the door opened.

Everett Ross was a short man with graying blonde hair. He wore a crisp grey suit and his eyebrows were drawn down into a frown as he looked at Tony.  

“Mr. Stark,” he started. “Any news on the Barnes front?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been back for two hours.”

“Ross told me you were a genius,” Everett said. There was a challenge in his voice.

Tony straightened in his chair, taking another swallow of his drink. “I _am_ a genius.” That was something that wasn’t to be disputed. “But it took me months to figure out that King T’Challa was housing Barnes and you expect me to have found him again in two hours? I may be smart, but I’m not a god.”

“Don’t you know a god?” Everett said, coming farther into the room. He gave Tony’s liquor a look, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Yes,” Tony said, nodding. “Thor. He’s a good guy, but I doubt he can help us. He’s got issues of his own to deal with.”

Everett crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his hip against Tony’s desk.

“Shouldn’t it be easier to track Barnes down now that we’ve pushed them out of hiding?”

Tony shrugged. “It could be, but I highly doubt that Steve is going to go through the normal public channels to get out of Africa, so we won’t get any hits looking at trains or airports. So our best chance right now is to hope they slip up when they finally come up for air, or to try and guess where they might go.”

“Any ideas yet?”

“Again, it’s been two hours,” Tony said. “I’m working on it. When I know something so will you.” Probably.

Everett gave Tony a lingering look as if he knew that Tony was perfectly capable and willing to not share the information.

Hell, Tony wouldn’t trust himself either if he was in Everett’s shoes.

He cleared his throat. “What about on your end? You’ve got your three _special_ agents working on something right?”

Everett’s eyes shuttered, causing Tony’s to narrow.

“Yeah, they’ve got a different angle that I assigned them. Don’t worry about them, Stark, worry about your job.”

Evasion. Great. Everett and Ross were both keeping things from him. In fact, they were probably keeping information from Tony together. Those Ross bastards probably were on the exact same page and weren’t gonna share with the rest of the class.

“Do you and Thaddeus get confused when people ask for Ross?” Tony said, changing the topic abruptly. He gave Everett a shit eating grin. “I admit I was surprised when the two of you decided to do a team up sort of thing. I know if it was me, I wouldn’t want to share my name.” He jabbed a finger at Everett. “Do you go by Ross one and Thaddeus by Ross Two?”

Everett snorted, turning on his heel. “Keep working, Stark.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Tony slumped back down into his chair. He glared at the drink clutched in his hand. It seemed like everyone was in on what was going on except him. Even those three agents probably knew more than he did.

Tony’s eyes sparked. He knew that Ross and Everett wouldn’t talk; they were too damn tight and they knew him too well to let anything slip. But those other three, they might mess up if he got them talking. And if there was one thing he was good at it was getting people to talk.

With an objective in mind, Tony turned back to the task of actually finding Steve and Barnes. He _would_ find them again and when he did, he would know what the Rosses were planning.

* * *

 

Agents Locke, Branson, and Hardy had known when Everett had given them this assignment that it was an assignment of a lifetime. They would get to be the agents that helped apprehend the Winter Soldier. All of the agents on base had been foaming at the mouths to be part of Everett’s highly classified mission.

Even though it was classified, everyone knew that it involved Secretory of State Ross and Tony Stark. And with those men involved, everyone knew that the mission had something to do with James Buchanan Barnes—aka the Winter Soldier.

Even with the information that Tony Stark brought forward about the real culprit of the bombings and when they actually had the man, Zemo, in their custody, no one had stopped looking for the Winter Soldier.

Everyone on base had seen the damage that the Winter Soldier had caused in only a few hours; it didn’t matter if he hadn’t been the bomber, he was still a dangerous assassin.

Everyone was eager to be the one to bring him in. Not just the U.S. but other countries too. Everett was determined to be the first.

Branson had told the others that their new angle wasn’t a what, but a who.

Now the three of them were driving in a nondescript car to the location that Branson had pulled up on his phone.

“His name is Anton Grekov,” Branson said, turning his head to include Hardy, who sat in the back, in the conversation. “He was a young man when he worked on the project. We’re not sure how involved he was in the project or if he even knows anything, but it’s our job to apprehend him and bring him in for questioning.”

Hardy, looking slightly green in the backseat, held up a hand. “Let me get this straight. This man, Grekov, worked with General Vasily Karpov and was involved with keeping the Winter Soldier healthy and ready? At what capacity was he involved? Is he even going to be any help?”

“It doesn’t matter how little or much he was involved,” Locke put in. “He’s a new lead that Everett wants us to check out. Besides, he might be more talkative than Zemo; we might get more information out of him about Barnes. He was there during the later half of the red book’s notes. He has to have info about Barnes.”

“But what?” Hardy persisted. “How much is he going to be able to tell us?”

“It may not be much,” Branson conceded. “But we have to do our job and see what we can find. Who knows, he might be able to tell us where Barnes might go.”

“Go?” Hardy muttered, leaning back. “He’s with Rodgers. Where they go is anyone’s guess.”

“It’s Stark’s guess,” Locke said. “But we need to help if we can.”

“Of course,” Hardy was quick to agree. “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t.”

“Then what are you saying?” Branson asked from the driver seat. He glanced at Hardy through the mirror.

“I’m just wondering if this is the best use of our time,” Hardy said.

“I’d say so,” Locke put in. “Whether this man is useful to us or not, he worked closely with the Winter Soldier and probably committed many crimes by association against the U.S. He should be brought to justice.”

Hardy quieted at that, but the other two could still feel his unease from where they sat.

The rest of the car ride was silent. When they arrived at Grekov’s home, they all moved from the car as one. Their movements mirrored each other’s, hinting at why they had been chosen by Everett as his team on this mission.

At the door of Grekov’s house, Locke raised her hand, rapping her knuckles against the wooden door.

They waited a few beats, listening to the shuffling from inside, before the door opened to reveal a friendly looking man with greying hair. “Yes?” He asked, his Russian accent barely audible.

“Mr. Grekov?” Locke asked, taking point. She held her badge up.

His face fell a fraction at the sound of his name. Presumably it hadn’t been the one he had been using since leaving the Winter Soldier project.

“So you’ve finally come,” he said, pushing the door open more. “I knew it would happen someday.”

Locke ignored this. “Sir, if you could come with us, we have some questions for you.”

Grekov’s hand disappeared from view, making all three agents tense, but it only reappeared with a jacket. He pulled it on, stepping outside. “What are you here about?” The question seemed pointless to all parties involved.

“I think you know why, sir,” Locke said, lightly taking Grekov’s arm and leading him to the car.

“The Soldat,” Grekov said, some of his accent bleeding through. “You’ve come about him.”

Locke helped Grekov into the car before getting into the passenger seat up front. Hardy and Branson followed her example, their doors shutting them in the silence of the vehicle.

Locke swiveled in her seat to eye Grekov. She nodded at Hardy, who sat beside the Russian. He gave her a quick nod, taking out a pair of silver handcuffs.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, taking Grekov’s willing wrists and locking the cuffs around them.

“I saw the news about him, the Soldat,” Grekov continued as if the pause in their conversation hadn’t occurred. “I knew that he was missing after the initial fall of Hydra, but it wasn’t until he blew up the UN building did I see him again.”

Locke exchanged a look with Branson.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if we could wait until we get back to our base, this conversation will be a lot easier,” Branson said as he started the car.

“Of course,” Grekov said, settling back against the seat.

Locke turned back in her seat to face the front. She couldn’t believe that bringing Grekov in was this easy. Not only was he willing to cooperate, but he was also willing to talk about the Winter Soldier. Perhaps this trip wasn’t a waste like Hardy seemed to think.  

* * *

 

The jet settled into the thick grass the covered the countryside of the small town that Bucky had told Sam and Steve about.

Sam grudgingly admitted (to himself) that Bucky wasn’t wrong about the area; it was out of the way and would be the last place that Tony and Ross would think to look, especially being in Germany, close to the CIA base.

He tried to ignore the tension in the air that was being emitted between Steve and Bucky. He hadn’t been listening to what they had been talking about in the back of the jet and it wasn’t until Bucky voluntarily moved to sit up front with Sam, did he realize that the two of them were arguing about something.

They hadn’t said a word to each other that whole time and a thick silence reigned over the jet, making Sam’s shoulders stiffen and tense.

Now that they were actually at Bucky’s “safe place” they would have to break the silence.

Sam stretched out his arms, trying to loosen the tension. He eyed Bucky to his right, who had spent the whole trip staring straight ahead.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, what now?” His voice was loud in the quiet of jet.

Bucky seemed to shake himself slightly before looking over to Sam. His face was blank, but he stood up, motioning for Sam to follow. As he passed Steve, he paused and waited for Steve to get to his feet as well.

Steve and Sam followed Bucky out into the darkening area. Sam had landed the jet on the very outskirts of the town, close to the thick woods that surrounded the area. He figured that it would be easier to hide the jet that way.

Sam squinted into the distance, catching sight of the glow of the town. It was a couple of miles off, but it wouldn’t be a difficult hike from where they were now.

He glanced back around to the others. Steve was eyeing Bucky uncertainly, while Bucky stared straight ahead.

Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He rubbed a hand across his close cut hair, stepping closer to the others.

“Look,” he said, breaking into the awkwardness. “I don’t know what’s going on, but save it for later. Right now we gotta cover the jet, get our supplies and trek into town without attracting too much attention. And who knows what’s going to happen after we manage all that.”

Steve was already nodding by the time Sam had finished. “He’s right, Buck,” Steve said, shifting closer to his friend. “We can discuss our issue later—.”

“I don’t want to discuss it later,” Bucky all but snapped, his eyes narrowing at Steve. His body leaned forward aggressively.  

Sam’s hand jumped down to his waist, where he had holstered his Beretta. His fingers brushed the butt of the pistol, but he didn’t draw it.

Bucky’s eyes flickered to Sam’s hands and he gave Sam a sneer, almost as if he was daring Sam to give it his best shot.

Steve reached out, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Take it easy, both of you.” His head swiveled, giving both men firm looks. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Bucky, but we _will_. We have to. But for now, it doesn’t matter. It’s more important to get into the town.”

Bucky held Sam’s eyes around Steve’s form, promising retribution if Sam made a move on him. But then the moment ended and Bucky appeared to shake himself, mentally and physically. He dropped his eyes, heaving a breath.

“There’s a house, on the edge of town. No one lives there, and it’s left alone by the townspeople,” Bucky said carefully.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute.” He held up a hand. “What is this place? Have you been there before?”

Bucky gave a slow nod. “Affirmative...Yes.” His hand clenched by his side.

“When?” Sam demanded, frowning at Bucky’s words.

Steve shot him a look that warned Sam to take it easy, but he turned his head back around to Bucky; as curious as Sam about the answer.

Bucky chewed on his lip for a beat before saying, “September 24th, 1956.”

Sam heard Steve’s harsh intake of air beside him, but he kept his focus on Bucky. “So you’ve taken us to a place that you used when you were still working for Hydra.”

“I wasn’t working for Hydra,” Bucky snapped.

“Oh, excuse me,” Sam said, raising both hands, “when Hydra brainwashed you and _used_ you. You gotta stop using that excuse for your actions now, man.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Bucky snapped. “I know what I did, but if you think that I voluntarily worked for them then you’ve got less brains than I give you credit for.” Bucky’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe the words that had come from his mouth.

Beside him, Steve looked just as surprised. Sam swore he saw a flash of recognition in Steve’s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said after a tense beat.

Sam shrugged. He had expected an outburst sooner rather than later. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve brought us to a place that Hydra used. It’s a Hydra safe house, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Sam said, leaning back on his heels. “So you’ve led us to an enemy base. Doesn’t this seem a little fucked to either of you?”

“It’s not in operation anymore,” Bucky said. “They stopped using it almost fifteen years ago. I don’t know why.”

“No offense, man, but you’re not the most reliable when it comes to remembering things,” Sam said. He turned to Steve. “He could’ve led us into a trap without even realizing it. We can’t stay here.”

“It’s not a trap,” Bucky said, frustrated. “I have control.”

“You didn’t in Berlin,” Sam said.

“That was different,” Bucky growled.

“Yeah, because some lunatic had those fucking words and used them to take your control,” Sam said.

Bucky took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by Steve’s hand on his chest.

“Okay, stop. Both of you,” Steve cut in. “Sam, back off.”

Sam raised his hands and took a couple of steps back.

Steve turned to Bucky. “He’s just worried and wants to make sure that we’re not walking into this blind.”

Bucky’s breath was coming harshly out of his nose as he glared at Sam over Steve’s shoulder.

“I believe you, Bucky,” Steve said, causing Bucky’s blue eyes to focus on him. “I know that you wouldn’t knowingly walk us into a trap.”

Bucky’s expression went from hopeful back to closed off at the word ‘knowingly.’

“But,” Steve continued, “I trust you. _I_ believe that you have control right now. Hydra doesn’t have your mind without the words and no one has spoken them to you.”

Bucky’s face slowly began to clear again.

“Honestly, if this is a Hydra safe house, I doubt Tony would ever think to look for us here. This might be the best place we could stay,” Steve said. He gave Sam a pointed look. “We aren’t going in unprepared, Sam. We’ll be okay.”

Sam’s mouth twisted slightly, but he gave Steve a slow nod. “Fine.”

It was the best that Steve was going to get from Sam, and he accept it with a returned nod.

“Let’s get the jet covered and get a move on,” Steve said. He began to walk back towards the ramp on the jet, not checking to see if the other two were following him.

Sam and Bucky carefully didn’t look at each as they set off after Steve.

The tension between the two of them had skyrocketed, but the fuse had eased for the moment.

Sam couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for the bomb to go off between them. At the rate they were going it wouldn’t be long now.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to clarify a couple of things. The three agents (Branson, Hardy, and Locke) and Anton Grekov are all my characters. I just need them to help move the story along. Hopefully they don't annoy anyone too much (I know that OCs can kinda be annoying sometimes).  
> Also thank you for the kudos and comments from Darcy and DancesWithNargles! I really appreciate them and they really do encourage me to write more/better!  
> Lastly, my goal with this story is to get a chapter out once a week, but I'm a pretty slow writer so we'll see if that actually happens. I also want to try and get it done by the end of the summer (again we'll see if it happens). In other words I can use all the encouragement I can get!


	3. This Ain't a Noose

 The safe house that Bucky brought them to was small and only a little ways off from the small town, like he had told them.

Bucky could feel Sam’s hard eyes boring holes into his back as he took point, leading them to the side door on the house.

He ignored it, focusing on the door that looked like an ordinary wooden door, but wasn’t. The wood was only the first layer; there was reinforced steel beneath it. He lightly touched the knob, but it didn’t give under his palm.

His fingers traced up the frame of the door, searching for the keypad that he knew had been added later, after his time.

With a click, his forefinger pushed the right spot, revealing a dusty looking keypad. A red light glowed above the numbers, waiting for the right combination.

Bucky hadn’t used this house since the 50’s, and that was before they put in the keypad, but the code to enter safe houses were always the same. For him at least; Hydra knew that the Winter Soldier was unfailingly loyal, except for a few glitches every now and then. Bucky didn’t know if the code was the same for other Hydra agents, and frankly he didn’t care.

Hesitating slightly, Bucky thumbed in the string of numbers. After a beat, the light flashed green and the door clicked, opening enough for him to edge his fingers into the crack and heave the door open the rest of the way.

He entered the musty smelling house, feeling the others shuffling inside behind him.

Lights flickered on overhead, revealing a bare room. There were a few random chairs and a table, shoved in the corner, but anything that might have been important was gone.

Bucky set down his duffel, letting it thump by his feet. He looked around, trying to remember what had happened to him here. Like he had told Stark, he remembered all his missions, all the people he had killed, but the order in which they happened were muddled and he didn’t always remember where certain missions had taken place.

“I’ll check the rest of the house,” Sam said, brushing past Bucky with his pistol out.

Bucky gave him a half-hearted glare, but didn’t argue; the house did have to be checked and Sam, a good soldier, would get the job done.  

Steve stood at his elbow, watching him. Bucky could feel his eyes on him, waiting. For what he wasn’t sure. Maybe a reaction of some kind.

Bucky could feel the cold stiffness of his features, but that was only a mask to cover the emotions that rolled underneath. It felt wrong to be back here, back in a Hydra safe house without a handler or a mission.

Steve touched his shoulder, causing him to recoil at the sudden physical contact.

“Sorry,” Steve said, his voice loud in the empty house. He paused. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He didn’t elaborate, but he knew that Steve could see right through the simple word.

But Steve didn’t push it, and for that Bucky was thankful.

He cleared his throat. “We should get set up. In case they find us and we need to fight our way out of here.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. He stepped further into the room, giving it a curious look. “This place looks so normal.”

Bucky knew what Steve meant; the safe house that had protected Hydra agents, generally the worst kind of people, was just a house.

“Steve,” Sam’s voice sounded a few rooms away. “Steve, you need to see this.” There was a strange hitch in Sam’s voice that neither men liked.

They exchanged a quick, tense look before both of them headed towards where they had heard Sam call out.

From the hall, they could see the room at the end glowing from the light that Sam had probably turned on.

Steve went first, his feet padding softly against the wooden floor. Bucky had Steve’s six, annoyed that he didn’t have a weapon on him. Though, he knew that if it came down to it, he would protect Steve with whatever he had, even without a weapon.  

As they neared the room, Bucky’s stomach suddenly clenched and a feeling of dread filled his head. He swallowed and continued to follow Steve, trying to ignore the feeling.

Steve entered the room first, freezing on the threshold. Bucky almost ran into his back, stopping just before hitting Steve.

Steve spun around, placing his palm on Bucky’s chest. He pushed Bucky back, away from the room. His eyes were flashing with an emotion, not fear, but with anger.

For a moment, Bucky thought the anger was directed at him, but then Steve said, “You don’t want to come in. Stay out there.”

Bucky frowned. “What?”

“You don’t want to see this,” Steve said again, stepping further out, crowding into Bucky’s space and forcing him away from the doorway.

“Steve,” Sam’s voice sounded from inside the room, echoing slightly in the empty space.

Both men ignored Sam, focusing completely on each other.

With a frown still firmly in place, Bucky edged forward; whatever was in the room couldn’t be as bad as the things that he had seen in his lifetime.

He was stopped by Steve’s hand planted on his chest again. Bucky paused, looking down at the hand splayed out against his black jacket.

His eyes tracked up Steve’s arm before resting on Steve’s hard blue eyes.

“Trust me,” Steve said.

“I do trust you,” Bucky replied. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t handle whatever is inside there.”

Bucky took a small step forward, but Steve’s arm only stiffened, keeping him in place.

“I don’t want you to have to handle it,” Steve said, his voice catching slightly.

Bucky appreciated that. But. That didn’t mean he was a fragile man, who would break at the first sign of Hydra. Yes, he was fractured, but he was healing, with Steve’s help, and he wouldn’t be able to fully take control of his life without facing the things that Hydra had done to him and others.

“Steve,” Bucky said slowly. “I’m going in there.” He paused. “Besides, whatever is in there I’ve already seen it; I’ve been here before.”

He leaned into Steve’s hand, indicating that he was going into the room, one way or another.

Steve’s mouth worked and his eyebrows drew together, but then he sighed and he dropped his hand back to his side.

He took a step back, keeping Bucky in view, and together the two of them entered the room.

Sam was waiting for them inside, arms crossed over his chest. An eyebrow rose when he saw Bucky, clearly thinking that Steve would win the argument, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Bucky’s focus went from Sam to the rest of the small, windowless room. His breath froze slightly in his chest as he realized just where they were.

It was a Hydra torture room, or as they normally called it: an interrogation room.

Most of the more expensive equipment that was usually kept in these type of rooms were gone, but they had left the essentials.

A chair sat in the middle of the room, dusty with disuse, and a cart on wheels was sitting next to it, holding a lamp and what remained of the tools. In one corner of the room, a large metal tub sat, empty of water, but it was easy to guess what it had been used for.

Bucky’s eyes traveled the room, hovering on different objects for a moment before moving to the next.

When he had made a full rotation around the room, his gaze ended on Steve, whose face was pinched in a worried grimace.

Bucky unclenched his teeth, not realizing that he had been grinding them. He let out a slow breath; he didn’t want Steve to think that this was something that could trigger him or turn him into a gibbering mess. Forcing a flash of teeth, Bucky said, “You thought I couldn’t handle this? This is nothing—,”

Steve’s face dropped a shade and Bucky winced, swallowing the rest of his words. Clearly that had been the wrong thing to say.

He took a hesitant step towards his friend.

“It’s okay, Steve, I’m okay. This place hasn’t been used in years.”

“Do you...do you remember what happened here?” Steve asked, stumbling over his words.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Sam lean forward, interested in what he had to say.

Bucky shook his head. “No. I don’t remember.”

Lie. He remembered; he remembered all of them, all of his missions, and now that he saw this room it was starting to come back.

Steve relaxed a fraction. “Good.”

Sam paced forward. “Let’s get outta here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

The three men filed out of the room. Bucky paused on the threshold, his finger pressing against the light switch. He glanced back into the room.

_“No, please, no! I don’t know what you’re asking! Please stop. Please!”_

Bucky jerked back, away from the memory. He jabbed his finger to the switch, plunging the room into darkness. He fled from the space without seeming like he was running; Steve would only worry if he saw the terror that Bucky hid under his mask of indifference.

* * *

 

Ross was back.

Tony heard him before he saw him.

Tony was slumped on a couch in one of the CIA’s break rooms. Tony had been surprised at how normal and un-spy like the room had looked; it was complete with a fridge full of food that held post-it notes threatening bodily harm if someone took their food and in the corner, a black, spaghetti stained microwave.

He had wandered into the room while taking a break from looking for Steve and spying on the spies. After he had helped himself from the fridge (he ignored the post-its, figuring the spies couldn’t be scarier than the spies that he knew), he had planted himself down on the couch with his feet up and his hands resting on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, a small frown on his face.  

To the outside observer it looked like he wasn’t doing anything, but he was. He was working through the past few hours of searching that he had been doing, deciding which steps had been effective and which steps he should skip next time.

To Ross it looked like he was wasting everyone’s time.

“What the hell are you doing, Stark?”

Tony lolled his head to the side, staring up at Ross’ glaring features.

“You’re back,” Tony said. “How was the trip?”

“You’ve been in Berlin for hours and you’ve come up with nothing,” Ross said, as if Tony hadn’t said anything.

Tony sat up. “That’s what Ross Number One said too. You both seem to think that I possess powers of a god, but I can’t just pull Steve and Barnes from thin air. I found them the first time because of a mistake on Steve’s part. He was stupid and messed up, but only after months of evading me first. Do you really think that I’m going to find him the same way? Probably not. So please, you do your super, secret spy thing, and let me do mine.”

Ross’ lips thinned. “Get up,” he said. His voice held no room for argument.

Tony stood up, standing almost nose to nose with Ross. With a scowl, Ross stepped back, giving Tony some space.

“I understand that you need time,” Ross started, his voice even. “But time is the one thing that we don’t have. With Barnes out of the ice, we don’t know what they’ll do. We know what he’s capable of, and we don’t want any more casualties.”

Tony shrugged. Before, Ross had been frantic with the thought of the Winter Soldier running loose, but apparently his worry had been for nothing—Barnes had been on ice for most, if not, all of the last nine months. Now, however, his worry was warranted. Barnes was out, they now knew that for a fact. It was highly unlikely that Ross and company were the only agencies looking for Barnes; word would’ve gotten out about his escape from Wakanda.

“I understand,” Tony said. For once his voice didn’t hold any contempt for the other man. “I know better than anyone just how dangerous Barnes is.”

Ross’ face softened a bit. His arm twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach out and grasp Tony’s shoulder, but he refrained from doing so.

“Of course,” he said instead. “Keep working. And, Stark? Hurry.”

* * *

 

Everett Ross stared at the unassuming man that sat at the stainless steel table in the interrogation room from his spot in the observation room.

His arms were crossed over his chest as he glared through the glass to Grekov’s calm features.

The man couldn’t have been calmer about the whole situation; he had seemed to accept his predicament and was making the best of it.

Whatever Grekov was really feeling wasn’t shown, and it was annoying Everett more than he liked to admit.

He could feel the three agents standing next to him shifting from foot to foot, each wanting to ask him what the next step was, why they brought Grekov here when they didn’t even have the Winter Soldier yet.

Everett didn’t have all the answers they wanted, but he wasn’t going to keep three of his best agents waiting any longer.

Abruptly he turned to them; they stiffened to attention.

“I know you’ve all got questions, but I would first like to commend you on a job well done bringing Grekov in,” Everett started.

“Thank you, sir,” Branson spoke for all of them.

“Grekov is important for our mission,” Everett continued. The three agents nodded in unison. “He worked for Hydra and was part of the Winter Soldier project. Any information he can give us on Barnes will be invaluable.”

“Sir?” Locke said, leaning forward slightly.

Everett focused his gaze on the tall woman, nodding.

“What if he can’t give us any new information? Or if he does, what happens to him when we don’t need him anymore?”

It was a valid question, one that Everett didn’t have an answer for yet.

He shrugged. “You’ll be given orders concerning Grekov when we finish our interrogation.”

Locke nodded, understanding that she wasn’t being told; she accepted the command and was ready to move on.

Everett smiled faintly; he knew he had chosen his agents well.

“Sir,” Hardy said, “Like we already mentioned, Grekov came in very easily. I find it hard to believe that a former Hydra soldier would simply let himself be taken by the enemy.”

“What are you saying, Agent Hardy?” Everett asked.

“I’m saying, sir, that we need to prepare for anything,” Hardy said carefully.

“Agreed,” Everett said. “Keep sharp, and let’s get to work.”  

* * *

 

Tony was taking another break, and because of this he was trying his hardest to stay out of Ross’ way. Earlier that day the two of them had a sorta moment, and Tony wasn’t eager to shatter the hesitant peace between the two of them, but he also wasn’t ready to give up on his side mission. He was going to find those three robot agents and get them to tell him what was going on.

Easier said than done, but Tony wasn’t worried. He was Tony Stark after all.

He had traced their badges around the building, watching as they entered and then moved down a few levels, almost as deep as when they held Barnes all those months ago.

This clearly meant they were up to something. Something that probably involved another somebody that wasn’t supposed to be seen by anyone not involved directly with the mission to bring Barnes in.

Tony was creeping through the halls, without trying to look like he was creeping. So far no one had stopped him. Plus the badge that they had given him was working on the doors—well he had made a couple of changes to the badge’s access, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he was about to enter a shady looking room where he was most definitely not supposed to be and he was wondering if he really wanted to know what the Rosses were up to _that_ badly.

His hand was resting on the door handle as he hesitated.

Yes. He did really want to know what those sneaky bastards were up to. Screw the consequences. It wasn’t like they could fire him; they needed him.

His hand tightened around the handle and he gently swung open the door.

Inside the dark room, three surprised faces looked back at him.

Tony immediately saw Everett from his spot in the middle of the room. The small man’s face started to darken when he saw who had disturbed...whatever this was.

“Uh,” Tony said. “This is not the bathroom.” He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.

“Stark,” Everett growled. “Get out.”

Tony ignored him, pacing further into the room. He pushed past the two agents and Everett, peering through the glass into an equally dismal room.

Tony pinched the edge of his glasses, pushing them up onto his head. He swung his head back around, pointing to the room beyond the glass.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Everett breathed deeply out of his nose. “What?”

“You’ve got one of your robot agents in the room with...who? Who is that?” Tony pulled his glasses off his head, pocketing them as he squinted at the man in the room, who was giving the robot agent a small smile.

The speakers in the room crackled as the robot agent spoke. “Thank you for cooperating with us, Anton—can I can you Anton?”

Anton smiled. “Of course.”

She returned the smile. “What can you tell us of your time working with the Winter Soldier?” Her smile disappeared and her tone turned serious.

Tony frowned. They were interrogating a Hydra soldier?

“I was only a young man at the time. And not very high up, as you would say, in the project. But I was there when we woke up him and helped with his rehabilitation.”

The robot agent frowned slightly. “Rehabilitation?”

Anton waved a hand. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. It’s when we put him in the chair.”

Tony’s stomach clenched and he swallowed.

“The chair is what we used to wipe him,” Anton continued. “His mind,” he added at the robot agent’s faintly confused look. “Sometimes he would start to remember things from his past and obviously that didn’t serve Hydra’s purposes.”

This was a quick pause as the robot agent absorbed that information. 

“Did he ever harm you or the other men?”

Anton shook his head. “Never Karpov, but sometimes he would forget and lash out at the rest of us.”

“Why not Karpov?”

“He had the book.”

“What book?”

“The red book with the words. He knew how to control the Soldat with the words and because of that the Soldat was his.”

Tony turned to the others. “The red book?”

“Not your concern,” Everett returned, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Uh, it’s a book that contains the magic words that can control Barnes. I’d say that’s a concern of mine and yours and everyone’s. If that book is in the wrong hands and they find Barnes before we do then we’re all royally fucked,” Tony said, fighting to keep his voice calm, even when he stomach was doing summersaults at the thought of the dead-eyed assassin on the loose with Hydra controlling him again.

Everett’s eyes flicked to Tony’s. “It’s not your problem, Stark. But finding Barnes is. I suggest you go back to where you came from.”

Tony glared at Everett’s small form. “You know where it is, don’t you.”

Everett didn’t answer, remaining stiff at Tony’s side.

“You don’t just know where the book is, you have it,” Tony said suddenly. It wasn’t a question because it was the only reasonable explanation to why Everett wasn’t losing his shit over the information that anyone could control Barnes with a few words.

Everett gave Tony another glance, but it was the agent to Tony’s other side that confirmed Tony’s guess. The agent shifted slightly, and Tony saw his mouth open and then close without anything coming out.

“So, why do you need this guy?” Tony asked, turning back to the glass. “If you already have the book, then why do you need him?”

The robot agent and Anton were still talking. Anton was in the middle of explaining one of the times Barnes had snapped; the robot agent was trying to figure out what had caused the reaction.

Tony suddenly felt sick.

Clearly, Everett was planning to use the book on Barnes. It _did_ make sense, Tony tried to tell himself. Without the book to make Barnes complacent, they probably wouldn’t be able to bring him in. Tony understood that, but he couldn’t help feeling a little nauseous too. For the better part of Barnes’ life he had been under the thumb of someone; he never had control over his own life.

But.

He still had killed Tony’s parents and that was unforgiveable.

Tony shook himself. “So you need the book to bring him in?”

“Yes,” Everett grudgingly said. “We need the book to place Barnes under our control so that we can safely bring him in.”

“And you’re talking to this guy so you can figure out just how foolproof this plan is?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Tony said, stepping back away from the glass. He had seen enough. “Well, you’re right. This isn’t the bathroom and I’ve got work to do.”

Tony closed the door behind him, still feeling faintly sick. He tried to shake the feeling away, but it stayed, lingering beneath his skin. And Tony didn’t think it was going away any time soon.

* * *

 

_The man didn’t even struggle or question the Soldier’s presence when he came for him. He wasn’t even afraid._

_That changed quickly, however, when he realized which room he was being brought to._

_“No! Stop! Why are we going in there?” He struggled against the Soldier’s arms, but it was a useless attempt. The Soldier was far stronger than the man, even without using his metal arm. He pushed the man—they hadn’t told the Soldier his name—into the room._

_The man gave a weak yell at the sight of the chair in the middle of the room. The Soldier too felt dread at the image, but he pushed those emotions aside. The Soldier, the Asset, didn’t have emotions._

_The man continued to struggle against the Soldier’s arm, trying to push his way back out of the room; however, it was futile and the Soldier easily shoved the man on to the chair._

_He pressed his metal palm against the man’s chest, holding him in place while he put the straps around the man’s arms and legs. The last strap went around the man’s chest and the Soldier stepped back to appraise his handiwork._

_He vaguely remembered being in the man’s situation, but the straps hadn’t been leather; leather was too easy for him to break._

_The man’s struggles abruptly stopped and he stared up at the Soldier with wide eyes. “What do you want from me? Why am I here?”_

_“Your loyalty has been questioned.” The German words rolled easily off of the Soldier’s tongue. “I’ve been tasked with testing your loyalty.”_

_The man blanched. “I am loyal!” he insisted. “I have never betrayed Hydra! Never!”_

_“We’ll see,” the Soldier said, coming forward._

Bucky knew he was dreaming. He could feel the looseness of the dream, or rather the memory, at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t stop the memory from playing out. He had no control over what his past self did. His limbs felt too slow and clumsy to do anything other than what the memory dictated. He soundlessly screamed at himself to stop, to wake up, to do something other than what Hydra had ordered him to do.

But it didn’t stop anything. The memory continued.

_Blood stained the Soldier’s hands, tracing red lines around his fingernails. It dripped from his hands to the floor, pooling at his feet._

_The man on the chair was sobbing weakly, no longer struggling. He was pleading with the Soldier, trying to make the Soldier see his loyalty to Hydra._

_But the Soldier had been ordered to make the man hurt. Make him hurt, but not to kill him. He was ordered to ignore everything the man said, unless it was information against Hydra or if the suspicions were correct and the man was an enemy of Hydra. But everything else that came from the man’s mouth was to be ignored._

_So that’s what the Soldier had done. He had hurt the man, again and again, ignoring the babble of words the poured from the man._

_The Soldier stepped forward again, causing the man to cringe and pull against the restraints._

_“Soldat!” The door swung open and the Soldier’s handler for the mission stepped in. “Enough.” The words were in Russian, but it was simple for the Soldier to make the language switch._

_He gave a nod, moving away from the still sobbing man._

_The handler walked further into the room, peering at the quivering mess of a man on the chair. He gave an approving nod._

_“Good work, Soldat.”_

_He eyed the Soldier, noting the blood that splattered across the Soldier’s jacket and face. His eyes traced down from the jacket to the Soldier’s hands, almost completely colored red from blood._

_“Go. Clean yourself up. I will take care of this,” the handler nodded to the man on the chair._

_The Soldier hesitated. His mission wasn’t complete._

_The handler saw the hesitation and said, “I’m authorized to complete this mission for you. Your work here is finished. Go.”_

_The words tugged at his mind and he did as he was commanded. He left._

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, staring unseeing into the dark that enveloped the room. His chest heaved as he struggled to control his breathing.

Carefully, Bucky eased himself up into a sitting position on the cot. His arm trembled under his weight and the leftover emotions of the memory.

Bucky raised his eyes to do a quick check of the room that the three of them had chosen to set up camp in. They had decided to share the room in case of any trouble in the night. Bucky hadn’t wanted to share in case something like this happened, but he could tell that Steve wanted to keep an eye on both Sam and him so he hadn’t protested against the sleeping arrangement. Now he wished he had.

Sam was still asleep on his cot, one arm hanging over the edge and brushing against the floor.  

Bucky silently breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn’t been screaming this time.

His eyes moved from Sam to Steve’s cot. He froze, seeing Steve’s blue eyes staring up at him.

Steve was still laying on his side, but he was awake. Maybe Bucky hadn’t been as quiet as he thought.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked in a near whisper. He pushed himself up into a sitting position on the cot, which sagged dangerously under his weight.

Bucky nodded. Yes. He was fine.

Steve’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. He swung his legs over the edge of the cot, his bare feet pressing against the floor. Standing up, Steve motioned for Bucky to follow him.

Bucky knew that if he didn’t get up and follow Steve it wouldn’t change anything; Steve would find a way to have a conversation with him about what had just happened, one way or another. So he stood up and silently followed Steve from the room, leaving Sam snoring quietly behind him.  

Steve took them to the first room they had come into. Their bags were piled against the wall, but they had kept most of their weapons in the other room with them, in case anything happened while they were sleeping.

Steve leaned up against the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice still quiet, but loud enough for Bucky to hear him.

Bucky shook his head. His stomach jumped at the idea of swallowing any liquids or food.

“What happened?” Steve asked. “Do you have these...memories often?”

Bucky considered his answer. Steve would probably see right through the lie that was on the tip of his tongue.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I have them often.”

Steve’s lips pressed together tightly. “Is it because we’re here? In this Hydra safe house? Did it trigger a memory?”

Bucky sighed. “Yes. The memory is from this house.” Steve wouldn’t believe anything but the truth at this point.

“Dammit,” Steve muttered, pressing a hand to his eyes. He looked up after a moment. “Did it have something to do with that room?”

Bucky gave a short nod.

Steve hesitated with his next question, but Bucky could see it forming on his lips.

“Did they—?”

Bucky rapidly shook his head, cutting off the rest of the question. “No. I was never...they never did anything to me here.”

Steve looked relieved for a brief moment, before he frowned again. “Then what happened?”

Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair, his fingers catching on the knots. He glared at Steve’s feet, not wanting to look his friend in the eyes.

“My mission was to test the loyalty of a man here in town.” The words were clipped and abrupt.

Bucky kept his eyes firmly on Steve’s feet, but he could feel Steve working out what he meant.

“Shit.”

Bucky nodded his agreement, still eyeing Steve’s bare feet.

Steve pushed off against the table, coming to stand in front of Bucky. He didn’t touch Bucky, but Bucky knew that he wanted to. Instead, he waited for Bucky to look up.

When Bucky did, there was no anger or pity in Steve’s eyes. There was compassion and empathy, something that Steve was able to convey without making Bucky feel worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked after a beat. “It might make you feel better.”

Bucky was already shaking his head. He knew it wouldn’t make him feel better to relive the memory again and he didn’t want Steve to have to deal with knowing every detail of what had happened to him. It would only make Steve angry and disgusted, and Bucky had enough of being the reason that Steve felt those things.

“Okay,” Steve said quietly. “If you change your mind, you know that I’m willing to listen.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “Thank you.”

Steve held Bucky’s eyes for a moment longer, before he stepped back and started moving towards the room they had left Sam in.

“We should try to get some more sleep.”

Bucky waved Steve on. “Go ahead. I’m going to stay up a little longer.”

Steve hesitated, but continued after an encouraging nod from Bucky.

With Steve out of the room, Bucky let out a ragged breath. He wasn’t going to sleep anymore tonight.

Moving silently to one of the duffels, Bucky knelt down, tugging at one of the bags.

He paused when he saw the black case that held the arm under his bag. A slow shudder rippled through him, and he stood quickly with his duffel in hand.

He set the duffel down on the table and worked the zipper open. Inside, a black AR15 sat. With his hand, he pulled it free from the bag, placing it on the dusty surface of the table.

Bucky needed something to occupy his mind, and his AR15 needed cleaning. So he was going to attempt to clean it with one hand.

He was sure that it would take a moment to work out how to make the best use of his one hand, but that was okay because he had all night.

* * *

 

Steve wasn’t sleeping. With Bucky awake and dealing with his haunting memories in the other room, Steve knew that he wasn’t going to sleep either.

He stared up at the cobweb filled ceiling, listening to Sam sleep next to him.

If he listened hard enough, he could hear Bucky a few rooms away fiddling with something, probably a weapon of some kind.

He itched to get back up and go to Bucky, but Bucky didn’t want him there. He clearly needed time alone, and Steve wasn’t going to be the one to deny that from his friend.

He heaved a sigh, and twisted so that he was on his stomach. He pressed his cheek against the lumpy pillow, staring at Bucky’s empty cot. The blankets were kicked up from where Bucky had pushed them aside.

Steve was surprised that he had woken up at the first few sounds from Bucky; his friend’s distress had been near silent this time.

But he had woken up, this time remembering Bucky’s warning from before and waiting for Bucky to wake himself up.

That in and of itself was hard. It was hard watching Bucky’s mouth curl into a grimace and for his remaining hand to tighten and loosen.

Whatever Bucky had been remembering must not have been as violent as the first memory on the jet. Or maybe Bucky had just reacted in a different way to an equally horrific and violent event. In truth, Steve had no idea what it was that Bucky saw. He could guess, but he didn’t know.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that there was something he could do to help Bucky. He knew that Bucky appreciated Steve just being present, but that didn’t feel like enough.

He had only just gotten Bucky back and he didn’t want to lose Bucky to his own mind.

Steve took a breath; he wouldn’t let that happen. Bucky was strong enough to break free from Hydra, and he would be strong enough to fight against the memories that lined the inside of his mind. And Steve would be there to help him when he needed him.

Feeling slightly better, Steve turned again and tried to go to sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all should be proud of me. I'm very surprised that I'm actually managing to get a chapter out once a week (okay, I know it's only been three weeks, but this is huge for me). Hopefully, I can keep this up.  
> I know this chapter is a little slow, but things are going to start happening, I promise. I just needed to take my time and set things up before I really get going.  
> Also, Farbeyondthegrave pointed out that I misspelled Steve's last name. Oops! I'll make the change at some point!  
> But if any of you guys notice mistakes, please let me know. I haven't read the comics and I don't have Civil War memorized so I'm sure that I'm making mistakes concerning characters or what have you.  
> Lastly, thanks for the kudos and the comment from Farbeyondthegrave! Keep them coming!  
> (Oh yeah, also, pretty much all the chapter titles are from songs. If you want to know which song, just ask and I'll let you know)


	4. A Mask of My Disguise

Steve woke suddenly, not sure why he had startled awake. Light was streaming through the boards that covered the window in the room. Dust particles hovered in the air, white in the light. The windows were only for show; they couldn’t be open or broken, protecting the house from any outside assault.

Steve inhaled, forcing air into his lungs. He sat up, looking over his shoulder to where Sam still slept. Bucky was gone; he had seen that the moment he woke up, but it wasn't really that surprising considering what had happened the night before.

Steve stood up, quietly padding from the room to the kitchen area.

Bucky sat at the table, his AR15 spread out in front of him. His palm was pressing against the top of the table as he glared at the pieces.

"Bucky?" Steve asked, his voice breaking from disuse.

Bucky's head snapped around, and his glare softened. "Morning, Steve."

"Morning?" Steve said cautiously. He walked further into the room, claiming the seat next to Bucky. "What're you up to here?"

Bucky followed Steve's gaze to the gun. He shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep."

"So you took your gun apart?"

"Hmm," Bucky said, his fingers darted forward to pluck up a black metal piece from the table. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"How many times?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked back to Steve. "A few."

Steve swallowed his sigh; he had hoped that Bucky had managed to get some sleep, but from the looks of it, he hadn't.

"You used to do this before, you know," Steve said softly. He reached forward, his finger lightly touched a piece of the weapon. "When we were both in our time," he added at Bucky's confused frown.

Bucky's face cleared. "You mean, when I was me, and you were Captain America fighting the Nazis."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Before any mission, I'd always find you cleaning your rifle. Usually multiple times. I'd always ask you by the third time if you thought it was clean this time. And you'd always say—,"

"You'll thank me tomorrow," Bucky cut in, his eyes staring over Steve's head into the past.

A smile broke out across Steve's lips. "Yeah. And you were always right. You'd save my ass from some Nazi or Hydra soldier before I'd even see him."

Bucky returned the smile, but his smile wasn't as bright as Steve's. "I remember that."

"Good," Steve said. He hesitantly leaned over, bumping Bucky's shoulders with his own. "Next time, let's try to remember something happier, huh?"

Bucky let out a soft laugh that could have been mistaken for a huff of breath. "Okay, deal."

They both stiffened at a shuffling sound from the hall, relaxing only when they saw Sam stumble in.

"You're normally more chipper in the morning," Steve said as a greeting.

Sam grunted, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting. "Normally, I get up and have a nice run that wakes up me up before I have to interact with people. Then I have some cold orange juice, which by the way, we don't have."

"Right," Steve said. "Food. We need to go into town today."

Silence fell over the three of them; despite the need to lay low, the need for food and supplies was strong.

Steve cleared his throat. "Well, I'll go."

"Not happening," Sam said just as Bucky said, "Not fucking likely."

Sam and Bucky shared a surprised look that they were actually agreeing on something.

Steve from his seat looked just as surprised, but his surprise was more from their vehemence rather than their agreement.

"You can't go, Steve," Sam said. "Look at you. You're a well known American icon. Even here, they're bound to know who you are."

Beside Steve, Bucky was nodding aggressively. "He's right, Steve. All three of us can't go; that'll attract too much attention, but out of all of us, you're the most likely to be recognized."

"What about you," Steve demanded gestured towards Bucky. "You've been on the news for months, granted it's died down a little, but you're not doing much better with the whole inconspicuous thing." He gave Bucky's one arm a pointed look.

Bucky shrugged; Steve wasn't wrong.

"So, that leaves me," Sam interjected, stabbing a thumb at himself. "Out of all of us, I've been on the news the least. I can get the stuff we need and back here in no time."

Bucky nodded. "Agreed."

Sam shot him a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of Bucky's agreement.

Bucky caught Sam's look and shot him a glare of his own.

"Alright," Steve said, his annoyance at being booted from the mission to collect supplies gone as Bucky and Sam's feud rose to take the brunt of his concern. "Sam, you can go. Bucky and I will stay here."

Sam broke the glaring contest to eye Steve. "No offense, Steve, but I was going to go whether you liked it or not. It's our only option."

"Noted," Steve said. "T'Challa left us some money. It's in my duffel in the corner." He pointed vaguely to the corner of the room.

Sam crossed the room, kneeling against the floorboards and rummaging through the pockets of Steve's green duffel.

Steve turned his gaze to Bucky. He leaned closer. "What's that about?" his voice dipped.

Bucky shrugged. "We've been over this, Steve, he doesn't like me and I don't like him. Apparently not even making sure you park your ass here for your safety isn't bringing us together."

"My safety?" Steve sputtered. "I can take care of myself—."

"Meanwhile bringing all of Stark's goons down on us," Bucky broke in. "You know why we can't show our faces. Sam'll be fine."

Steve sighed, eyeing Sam. "Yeah. I just wish one of us had his back. We don't know what's in this town."

"You worry too much," Sam said from his corner, standing with a wad of bills in hand. He strode to stand next to the others. "I know how to take care of myself too, Steve."

Bucky's mouth snapped shut as Sam entered the conversation again. He stood up, standing behind Steve.

"I know that, Sam," Steve said, turning his attention to Sam. "But you know how I feel about you going in without any backup."

"You guys are my backup," Sam insisted. "You'll just have to wait from the house, instead of trailing me." He gave Bucky a sidelong look. "You wouldn't need to worry if we knew more about this place, other than Hydra apparently thought it was important enough to have a safe house here."

Bucky turned sharply. "Again with this?"

Sam faced him. "Yeah, because you know what? I'm sick of tiptoeing around it. Clearly, you, the Bucky Barnes you, didn't decide to bring us here. The Winter Soldier did. This place was safe for the Winter Soldier because he—you—were Hydra."

"Yeah, I was," Bucky snapped. "I'm not anymore. How many times do I need to say it before you believe it?"

"I do believe you," Sam said evenly. "I just don't trust you. You say that you aren't Hydra anymore, but you lost it in Berlin. Those words snapped you back into their puppet. We don't know what else they did to you. Anything could be stored away in your mind and we wouldn't know it until it was too late."

" _I_ know what they did to me," Bucky said, his voice dangerously low. "Do you want to hear about it? Do you want to know what they did each time I woke up? Do you want to hear what they did to me to make me complacent?" Each sentence brought Bucky a step closer to Sam until he was standing chest to chest with the other man. "Just because you're Steve's friend doesn't mean I'm willing to take this shit from you."

Bucky's hand was clenched at his side, it twitched slightly as if he was about to shove it into Sam's chest, but he didn't. He took a step back before turning in his heel and stalking from the room.

Steve watched him go, a ragged breath heaving from his lungs. He rounded on Sam, his eyes flashing.

"What was that?"

Sam turned to Steve. "I'm sorry." He rubbed a hand over his head roughly. "I know he's your friend, Steve, and I know that all this shit he's into isn't his fault. I know that. But I keep thinking that all of this...it's too easy. Maybe not easy," Sam amended, frustrated. "The point is, Steve, that he can't be trusted. He doesn't have control over his own mind yet, if he ever will, and it's going to get someone hurt or killed and I don't want that person to be me or you."

"It's not going to be," Steve insisted. "Bucky is getting better. Hell, he already is better than he was in D.C. He's getting there, Sam. But you hounding him every time he opens his mouth isn't helping."

Sam grudgingly nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," Steve said, satisfied with Sam's answer for the moment.

Sam held up a hand, holding Steve in place. "Can I ask you something before you go find him?" He gave the doorway that Bucky had vanished through a dark look.

Steve paused. "Yeah, of course."

Sam shifted. "What exactly is the plan here? We managed to escape from Wakanda with Bucky and no tails. But now what? Do we stay here for the rest of our lives, or are we constantly going to be moving? What's our end game, Steve?"

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his blonde hair. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what we're doing. I know this isn't any kind of life, the constant awareness of being followed, the moving from city to city, all of it. I knew what I was doing when I sided with Bucky, but I can't ask you to do the same."

He fixed Sam with serious eyes. "If you want to go home, I will find a way to make that happen."

Sam leaned back on his heels, contemplating it. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I do what you do, remember? I'm not leaving you alone."

"Alone with Bucky?" Steve asked, but waved a hand, dismissing any answer Sam might have given. "Thank you. I mean it, Sam. Thank you." He paused, letting his gratitude sink in. "As for what we're going to do next, I don't know. But we'll figure it out. Together."

* * *

Sam could appreciate Bucky's reaction; he'd probably react the same way if some guy that was supposed to be on his side kept questioning his loyalty. He knew that he wasn't really being fair towards the other man, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on that they were all missing. That something bad was about to happen and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

It wasn't Bucky's fault that he had been brainwashed by Hydra, but that didn't mean that he could be unintentionally leading them exactly where Hydra wanted them.

When Sam had first met Bucky, Bucky had torn the stirring wheel out of his car before proceeding to try and kill all of them. It wasn't an ideal meeting.

The second time, Bucky ripped his way out of the metal and glass container that the CIA had provided for him before almost choking the life out of Sam. Again, not a great way to start any relationship.

So basically, the first few impressions of Bucky that Sam had were when Bucky was under Hydra's control.

Steve had known Bucky before the Hydra shit, but Sam had only ever known the darker side of Bucky. A side that was still inside Bucky, a side that Steve knew but didn't want to face. Or at least, that's what Sam told himself. So he'd face it for Steve. At the very least, he'd be the outsider, trying to watch Bucky for signs of Hydra. And bringing them to a Hydra safe house had sent Sam's alarms blaring.

Something was off about this whole thing and Sam was going to figure it out.

Sam strode down the picturesque sidewalks, trying to make sense of the German language being spoken around him, and ignoring the odd looks that the townspeople sent his way. For a brief moment, Sam wished that Steve had been able to talk him into letting one of them come with him into town, but he brushed those feelings aside.

Sam glanced down at the crumpled list in hand, eyeing Steve's blocky letters. Underneath Steve's words, Bucky had scrawled the items' names in German, so that all Sam would have to do would be to show the list to an employee and they would be able to get Sam the product without the hassle of Sam trying to mime what he needed.

Sam felt a pang of guilt for the way he had gone off at Bucky earlier, but the guilt was over whelmed by his fears about what might be knocking around inside Bucky's head.

He squinted at the list again. The essentials needed was mostly food, but there was some other supplies, like clothes, on the list.

Sam eyed the hanging signs over the stores that lined the street, going into the first one that looked like it might hold the desired supplies.

After a few tries, he managed to talk to one of the workers, who looked over Sam's list. He peered at Bucky's scribbles and understanding lit in his eyes.

He led Sam through the store, finding most of the food items needed.

Sam left the store without incident. He felt like this trip was going well, better than he expected, and that maybe he had been a little harsh on Bucky for leading them to this town.

A few stops later and Sam had crossed off most of the items on the paper. He was feeling pretty good about himself and the trip into town when his pocket began to ring.

Pausing on the edge of a sidewalk, Sam struggled to dig a hand into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that all of them were equipped with.

With most of the bags in one hand, Sam flipped open the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"Steve?"

"Sam," Steve's voice sounded on the other end. "Bucky's not here."

Sam halted, one foot hovering over the curb. "What?"

"He's not here," Steve repeated, panic licking at the edge of his voice. "After you left, I checked the house; he was laying on his cot, so I left him alone. But I just looked again two minutes ago and he wasn't there."

"Okay, so maybe he went outside," Sam said, starting to cross the road.

"I'm leaving the house," Steve said. "I'm going to look for him."

"No, Steve, don't," Sam said, halfway across the road. "He probably just needed some air. Don't go outside." He didn't tell Steve about the panic that was bubbling in his chest; this was exactly what he thought was going to happen with Bucky. Bucky's Hydra training would take over and he would leave, returning with Hydra men to kill them.

"Sam," Steve started, ready for an argument, but that was all Sam heard.

Something shoved into his back, propelling him forward and out of the way of a careless driver. Sam felt the burn of the car as it skidded past, the driver pushing hard on the breaks.

It missed Sam, barely, but the man who had shoved Sam out of the way wasn't so lucky.

The man rolled up the hood, crashing into the windshield of the car. The windshield splintered under the man's weight and the force of him hitting it.

The car jerked to a halt, causing the man to peel away from the windshield and fall to the ground in front of the car.

"Holy shit," Sam gasped.

He wasn't the only one. People around him were yelling things in German, watching the scene with open mouths.

Sam dropped all of his bags that he had managed to hold onto, running to the fallen man.

The man lay on his stomach, face covered by long hair. He was already beginning to sit up when Sam reached him.

"Hey, take it easy—," Sam broke off, staring at the cold blue eyes that glared back. "Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes flickered around, taking in the gaping people. He ducked his head, letting his hair cover his features.

"I need to leave. Now."

Sam didn't argue. He reached out to help Bucky up, but Bucky brushed off Sam's hands. He got to his feet, seemingly unhurt from the impact with the car.

"You need to get out of here too," Bucky hissed.

Sam nodded.

With his head still down, Bucky shoved his way into the crowd of people. Within seconds, he had disappeared, how, Sam wasn't sure.

Sam got up from his knees, going around to the side of the car. He wrenched open the driver's door, leaning in to check the man's pulse. It was strong under his fingers, despite the blood that was streaming from the man's head.

"Someone call an ambulance," Sam demanded over his shoulder. "This man needs help."

From his wheelchair on the sidewalk, an old man watched Sam. His foggy eyes flicking to where Bucky had disappeared. His wrinkled hands gripped the armrests of his chair as he squinted into the crowd of people, scanning them for Bucky.

He swallowed, licking his lips. He turned his attention to the caregiver at his side, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

"I want to go," the old man said in German.

The woman jerked, looking down, but nodded. She positioned herself behind the chair, beginning to wheel him away.

The old man eyed Sam once more before saying softly. "He's come back."

* * *

Tony's head popped up as his computer beeped, startling him awake. He groggily knuckled his eyes, blinking rapidly at the glowing computer screen.

Clearing his throat, Tony tapped his phone. "What do we got, FRIDAY?"

"An alert, sir," FRIDAY's voice sounded back. "One of the alerts you set up as been pinged."

Tony squinted slightly at the computer screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Which one?"

"Facial recognition, sir."

Tony's fingers paused. Steve would never have been that stupid to let his picture get taken, unless something had happened.

"Is Steve okay?" Tony demanded.

"I don't know, sir," FRIDAY replied. "It wasn't Captain Rogers' face that was captured."

Tony relaxed a fraction. "Who then?"

"Sam Wilson."

Tony frowned, pulling up the images that had pinged his alert. There were several different pictures, most of them from different angles. The first few showed Sam kneeling in front of a car with a broken windshield, a man dressed in all black was hunched in front of him.

The man in black's head was down, his dark hair covering his face, but Tony would've know him anywhere. His stomach dropped and his hands froze over the keys.

"That's Barnes," Tony murmured.

"The man in black, sir?" FRIDAY asked. "I can't get any confirmation. There aren't any clear pictures of him."

"Doesn't matter," Tony said. "That's him."

He tore his eyes from his parents' murderer, looking Sam over. The other man looked okay, a little worse for wear, but okay given the situation.

Sam's hands were frozen in the picture, reaching out for Barnes' shoulders. Sam's forearm and hands were red with blood, but it didn't look serious.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"According to the sources, there was a small accident. Mr. Wilson was crossing the street and the driver, a man on his phone, wasn't paying attention." FRIDAY paused.

"And?" Tony prompted.

"And, it's unclear what happened, but Mr. Wilson avoided the car." FRIDAY finished after a moment.

Tony eyed the scene, his mouth curling. The car's windshield was totaled, clearly someone had smashed into it and if that someone wasn't Sam, then it could only be one other person in the picture. Barnes.

Tony wasn't sure how he felt about Barnes saving someone that Tony cared about. It messed with his image of Barnes as the dead eyed assassin from the security video of his parents' death.

He pushed aside the conflicting images and got up, cracking his neck. "Get me everything you've got on where they are. I'm going to see the Rosses."

* * *

Tony burst into the office room, not caring that one of the Rosses secretaries was doing a funny half run after him, attempting to stop him from entering the room.

"I've found them," he announced, waving his tablet in the air.

Both Everett and Thaddeus Ross looked up from the table that they sat at, annoyed looks mirrored on their faces. But the annoyance disappeared quickly when they actually processed Tony's words.

"Where?" Ross demanded, getting to his feet.

Everett, still sitting at the table reached forward, closing the thin red book that lay in front of him.

Tony's eyes followed the movement, but didn't ask about it.

"Some small town here in Germany," Tony said, waving a hand as if the details didn't matter. "This picture," he paused, placing his tablet on the table and flicking up the image of Sam crouched in front of Barnes, "was taken a few hours ago. They're here and they're close."

Everett leaned forward on his elbows, peering at the picture. "Is that Sam Wilson? I thought you said you found Rogers and Barnes?"

"I did," Tony said impatiently. He jabbed a finger at Barnes. "That's Barnes."

"Are you sure?" Ross said, excitement bleeding away. "We can't see his face."

"Yes, I'm sure," Tony said. "Out of all the Avengers, Sam Wilson is Steve Rogers' closest ally. He wouldn't leave Steve. Wherever Sam is, Steve isn't far. And we know that wherever Steve is, Barnes is."

Ross was slowly nodding, but Everett didn't look convinced from his spot at the table.

"Look, you don't know Sam and Steve like I do," Tony said, directing this to Everett. "Trust me on this."

Ross turned to Everett. "He knows them better than we ever will. Besides, this is the only lead we have right now."

There was a short pause and then Everett said, "Fine. Take the men you need and go get them. If Barnes isn't there, at least bring Sam in."

Ross bristled at Everett's tone. "I know. Wilson is my man; he's been on the run for months, of course I'm bringing him in."

"Ladies," Tony said, jumping back into the conversation. "You can argue about who's in charge later. Right now, I suggest we move it. Who knows how long Steve and the others will stay there."

* * *

"Are you hurt?" Steve demanded as soon as Sam entered the house, broken boxes of food still in the plastic bags that Sam carried.

"I'm fine," Sam said, raising a hand to fend Steve off, but Steve only grabbed Sam's arm to inspect the long gash that trailed up his arm.

"Where's Bucky?" Sam asked, allowing himself to be dragged to the table and sat down. He dropped the bags down at his feet.

Steve glanced over his shoulder and Sam followed his gaze. Bucky was hunched in the corner, his back shoved against the wall. His arm was wrapped protectively around his waist and his mouth a pressed into a tight line.

Sam turned his attention back to Steve who had gotten out the First Aid kit and was busy cleaning and bandaging Sam's arm.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked quietly. "He took the brunt of the car."

"I'm fine," Bucky said from his corner.

Steve's mouth twisted. "You wouldn't have even been in this situation, if you had told me where you were going, or if you hadn't gone in the first place." Steve was doing his best to control his anger, making his words sound clipped.

He knew his anger wasn't directed at Bucky necessarily, but at what had happened to Bucky. He was more scared for what could have happened than angry at his friend.

"If I hadn't been there, it could've been Sam in that car's windshield," Bucky said, pushing off from the wall and dropping his arm from its position around his waist. "And you and I both know, that he wouldn't have been able to walk away from something like that so easily."

"Why _were_ you there?" Sam said, breaking into the conversation. He pulled his freshly bandaged arm away from Steve.

"I needed to get out," Bucky said, directing this over Steve to Sam. "And Steve wanted someone to watch your back."

"So you volunteered?" Sam asked wryly.

Bucky shrugged.

"We're gonna need to move," Steve said, getting up. "There's no way that that incident didn't attract attention." His anger from earlier leaving his words, as he focused on the next step.

Sam stood up too, lightly fingering the white bandage on his arm. He nodded.

"I may have stayed longer than I should have at the crash," he said. "I wanted to make sure the man was okay." Sam directed this to Bucky who was giving him a look.

"Of course," Steve said. "But now our cover is blown—."

"If we ever had it in the first place," Sam interjected.

Bucky rolled his eyes, spinning on his heel to stalk out through the hall. "I'll pack up the other room," he called over his shoulder.

Sam shot Steve a semi-apologetic look before they both started to pack up their few belongings.

It didn't them long; they had only been at the house for a day. Soon their bulging bags were piled near the door. All that was left was to arm themselves and leave.

Sam was in the other room, bringing the last of their bags to the main room. So for the moment, it was just Steve and Bucky.

They stood around the table, weapons littered on the surface.

Bucky's head was down, as he shifted through the guns.

Steve glanced over at Bucky, eyeing the space where his metal arm would go. He wished that he had pressed harder for Bucky to replace it with the one that T'Challa had given them; he had sinking feeling that Bucky was going to need both arms sooner rather than later.

"Here," Bucky said, stepping towards Steve. He held out a heavy black pistol in his hand. "You're gonna to need something."

Steve eyed the gun; he hadn't used one for a long time, really not since he had woken up in the future.

"It's a Glock 19. It's a good gun, reliable, and easy to use," Bucky said, hand still hovering in the air with the weapon.

Steve hesitantly reached forward, taking the weapon. He slid the magazine from the Glock, checking that it was fully loaded. He shoved it back in before loading a bullet into the chamber.

Bucky nodded approvingly, as if he knew that Steve would never forget his training from the war. He picked up a hard, black holster, giving it to Steve.

Steve took it, putting the holster on his hip. He then pushed the Glock into the holster.

"The safety," Bucky said, nodding at the gun on Steve's hip, "is on the trigger. So no little lever to push on the side."

Steve nodded his understanding.

There was a creak behind Bucky; Sam entered the room, with two duffels slung over his shoulder.

"It's all packed up in there—," he started, but stopped when the front and only door clicked.

All three of them froze, staring at the door as it hummed and then creaked open an inch.

Gloved fingers curled around the door's edge and pulled it open the rest of the way.

Bucky sprang into action, leaping forward to shove Steve out of the way as a canister rolled into the room. It exploded, white smoke billowing from it.

To Bucky's left, Sam immediately began hacking.

Steve's lips were pressed tightly together as he held his breath. The Glock that Bucky had given him was out, two hands firmly clasping it.

But he didn't need to use it; no one was coming in. Through the smoke, Bucky could see multiple figures standing outside the room, but they made no move to enter.

Bucky's lungs were starting to burn from lack of air, next to him, Sam was on the floor, choking.

He exchanged a swift look with Steve, both of their eyes red and streaming.

If the men outside weren't coming in, that meant that they wanted Bucky and the others to come out to them. They most likely had more men surrounding the house, leaving no other exit. They were going to wait for Steve and Bucky to leave or succumb to the gas.

Bucky growled, crouching and picking Sam up. He slung Sam's arm over his shoulder, and with Sam leaning heavily against him, they started to exit the room.

Steve was at Bucky's six, his weapon out and pointed at the men outside.

In the clean air, Sam immediately began to hack, but his breathing eased a little. Bucky let go of the other man, pulling out his own pistol.

The men, clad all in black, had their rifles pointed at Steve and the others.

Bucky couldn't see their faces because of the black helmets they wore, but he could tell they were all nervous, which meant that these men weren't just some random men from the town. These men knew who he was, and probably Steve as well.

There was no sign of Iron Man, which also meant that these men weren't American. They were something else.

"Who are you?" Bucky snarled his voice hoarse, training his pistol on one faceless man before moving to the next.

"Forgotten so soon?" a new voice sounded from behind the wall of men.

Bucky felt his spine stiffen, though he wasn't sure why. From his side, Bucky felt Steve do the same.

He didn't look over to his friend, instead he kept his eyes on the men in front of them as they stepped aside for the new voice.

A creaking sound filled the air, and an old man in a wheelchair inched his way forward.

Bucky frowned at the man, his pistol dropping to cover him even though the man didn't look like he could do anything much less attempt to kill Bucky or Steve.

"Who are you?" Steve demanded from Bucky's side. "Are you working for Ross? Or Hydra?"

The old man's eyes flickered from Bucky to Steve. He gave Steve a yellow toothed smile.

"Ah, Captain," he said. "I've read much about you; the man who tried to save the world and failed. And is still failing."

"Hydra," Steve growled, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the Glock tightened.

"Yes," the old man said, his chair coming closer. His eyes glinted, going from Steve to Bucky. "We've come to reclaim our property."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I'm pretty impressed with myself. I literally can't believe that I'm keeping up with this story. Normally, it's close to a month for each chapter. For real.  
> Anyway. Things are starting to happen! Yay! I'm hoping this all makes sense (and yes, I know that Steve and Bucky could probably fight their way out of the room and take on the Hydra men outside, but I wanted this to happen instead, so yeah).  
> Also, I hope that my explanation for why Sam is still cold towards Bucky makes sense. I wanted to show his side a little more because (as well all know) Sam is a pretty chill and nice guy, so he's isn't just acting like a jerk for the sake of acting like a jerk. Does that make sense?  
> As always, thanks for the kudos and the comment from Farbeyondthegrave. You guys will never know how encouraging they are to me! (they're one of the main reasons that I'm getting these chapters out and done)


	5. You Might be One of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up here, guys, this chapter has a couple scenes of torture and PTSD (I mean, it might not quite be PTSD, but that's all I can think of right now). I don't think it's too graphic overall, but I wanted to let you all know before you started reading.

It wasn’t in Steve’s nature to stand down from a fight, but this wasn’t a battle that he could fight because it wasn’t his to do so.

It was Bucky’s fight.

Besides, with Sam still hacking out a lung, Steve didn’t want to risk engaging into anything resembling a firefight. At least for the moment. However, he would have immediately thrown that plan out the window if Bucky had decided to try and wipe the smirk off the old man’s face in the wheelchair.

But Bucky didn’t.

Instead, Bucky’s pale face turned to Steve. His blue eyes were sparking with anger and a little bit of fear, and for a moment, it did seem like Bucky _was_ going to attack the men, but then his eyes fell on Sam and he stopped. The initial fight seemed to drain out of him, and he didn’t make any attempt to stop the Hydra soldiers from coming forward and ripping the weapons from Steve and Bucky’s yielding hands.

If Steve didn’t know that Bucky was doing this for Sam he might’ve thought that Bucky had somehow heard the damn words and was once again under Hydra’s control, but he knew that Bucky was only thinking about their teammate. Which vaguely surprised him, knowing how much Sam and Bucky had been fighting. 

The old man in the wheelchair ordered the soldiers to bring them back inside the house in clipped German, a gleeful grin on his face.

Steve and Sam’s hands were cuffed before they were shoved inside. White smoke still lingered in the air, but it was nowhere as bad as it had been.

Bucky had most of the Hydra soldiers surrounding him as he was prodded inside. His one arm hung limply by his side, hand clenching and loosening, as he glared at the men around him. 

Inside, all three of them were surrounded again in the middle of the room, as the old man was wheeled in, a cold smile playing on his lips. From his seat, he stared up at Bucky, clouded eyes taking in Bucky’s appearance. The two of them stared at each other, silent. 

Slight confusion was etched on Bucky's face, while the old man's eyes held nothing but hate. 

“What’s Hydra doing here?” Steve demanded when Bucky made no move to speak. “How did you find us?”

The old man gave Steve a long look. “Hydra has always been here. We didn’t find you; you fell into our lap.”

Steve shared a sick look with Sam, who was still hunched over, one hand pressed to his chest as if he was trying to stave off the coughing. Steve knew that Bucky had meant for this place to be safe, but he had done almost exactly what Sam had feared; he had unwittingly brought them into a Hydra nest. Who knew how long this small, out of the way, town had been controlled by Hydra. Probably since before the last time Bucky had been here in the 50's.  

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered now was for them to figure out who exactly had captured them and what he was going to do to them. Execution for him and Sam seemed like the most likely option, but Bucky was another matter.  

“What are you going to do with us?” Steve asked from Bucky’s side, his hands curled into fists causing the cuffs around his wrists to cut into his skin.   

The old man eyed Steve before focusing back on Bucky.

“I’m not going to do anything with you, Captain. It’s not _you_ that I wanted.”

“Then what are you going to do to _him_ ,” Steve growled, edging his way forward. His shoulder brushed against Bucky’s so that they were standing side-by-side.

“I’m going to do what he did to me,” the old man said. The grin slipped from his face, and his voice lowered. “I’m going to show him what happens when your loyalty to Hydra is questioned.”

Beside him, Steve felt Bucky stiffened. Steve gave Bucky a questioning look, but his friend was focused completely on the old man, his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. Recognition sparked in Bucky's eyes, but he didn't fill Steve in. 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Sam said hoarsely, his throat bobbed as he swallowed rapidly, trying to soften the rawness from the gas.

The old man hardly even spared Sam a look. “It means that before I give Hydra back their puppet, I intend to repay the Winter Soldier for every cut he gave me.”

Sam shook his head, glaring. “That doesn’t make any sense to us, old man.”

“Tell us your name,” Steve demanded.

“I never knew his name,” Bucky said suddenly. “They never told me.” But he knew the man’s screams; they still echoed in his head from the last time he had been in the Hydra safe house, trying to pound their way out of his skull.

_“No! Please, stop. I’ll do anything!”_

Bucky grimaced, pressing a knuckle to his eye.

The old man’s eyes flashed and his lips curled over his teeth. “My name is Albert Weber.” The words were slow, so that Bucky would be sure to hear them. 

Steve looked from Weber to Bucky. “Who is he?”

“The better question,” Bucky said bitterly, “is what _I_ did to him.”

“I never walked correctly again,” Weber said from his seat. He leaned forward, spitting out the words, “Thanks to you and your methods.”

Bucky’s lips pressed together; he had nothing to say to this man. No apology for past actions would make up for the man’s pain.  

“Hold up,” Sam said, holding one hand aloft. “Are you Hydra or not?”

“I am,” Weber said, annoyed at the interruption.

“Then why’re you messing with their Soldier?”

Bucky’s head jerked around to glare at Sam, who was ignoring him, his eyes intent on Weber.

“You’ve already had your loyalty questioned by Hydra,” Steve said, picking up where Sam left off. “Do you really think that they’ll forgive you if you wreck their weapon?”

Bucky’s chest tightened at Steve’s words; words that sounded so wrong coming from his friend’s mouth.    

“You say that he took away the use of your legs, but he wasn’t even told your name,” Sam continued. “He didn’t do this all on his own. Hydra issued the order; he just carried it out.”

“Enough!” Weber snapped. “Take him,” he ordered, gesturing to the soldiers.

Both Steve and Sam made a move to stand in front of Bucky, but he waved them off.

“I can handle it,” Bucky muttered, so only they could hear. “You’ve planted enough doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t dare do any permanent damage. He won’t risk Hydra’s wrath a second time.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that nutjob,” Steve hissed back, his hand curling around Bucky’s bicep, holding him in place.

Bucky was surprised to see Sam’s nod of agreement, but he shook his head at both of them.

“You’re not going to be able to stop him.”

“Watch me,” Steve said.

“Steve,” Bucky warned, as the Hydra soldiers came forward with their weapons out. “It’ll be okay.”

He locked eyes with Steve, trying to convey his willingness to endure whatever messed up game Weber had cooked up, giving Sam time to recover and Steve time to figure a way out of this situation. He tried to show his complete and utter trust in his friend, that he knew Steve would be able to get them out of this one way or another. 

With a low growl, Steve dropped his hand from Bucky’s arm and watched as the enemy took his friend away.

* * *

 

Tony didn’t have to insist very hard to go along with the rest of the men that the Rosses were sending to the small German town to retrieve Barnes. After all, he had been the one to find them and he was an asset to Ross with his knowledge of how Steve thought and acted. His Iron Man suit was just a bonus.

Steve was an afterthought for the Rosses; he was to be brought in if they were able. Barnes was the main objective; they desperately wanted him.

Steve wasn’t quite an afterthought for Tony, but, like the Rosses, Tony wanted Barnes. He wanted to be the one to bring Barnes in and then...

What? Kill him? Lock him up? Use him? What?

Tony swallowed; even after searching for Barnes for so long, he hadn’t allowed himself to spend much time thinking about what would happen when they actually got their hands on him.

The fire in his chest demanded that Tony kill him, but Tony wasn’t sure that was what he wanted anymore. Besides, he doubted either Ross would allow that to happen. He had a feeling that whatever scheme they had up their sleeves, it involved Barnes alive.

“Sir?” FRIDAY sounded through his helmet. “Are you alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Tony responded, focusing back on the rushing of the ground beneath him as he led the way through the sky to where he had located Barnes and Steve. “Just doing some thinking, FRIDAY.”

Behind him, in quinjets, the rest of the troops followed his trail. The forty men that Ross had sent might have been a bit excessive, but they weren’t taking any chances with Barnes. Not since he had escaped from inside the CIA base the last time they had managed to bring him in.  

Tony had tracked the pictures of Sam and Barnes to the small German town that seemed so picturesque that Tony could’ve sworn that it was straight from a fairy tale. Before they had left, Tony had pulled up pictures of the town from an aerial view, trying to guess the most likely place that they would be hiding.

He knew that they probably wouldn’t settle smack dab in the middle of the town; their faces were famous even out here.

He had eyed up some of the smaller houses that hugged the outskirts of town, thinking they would be ideal. His guess was only confirmed when a blurry image from above showed a smudge near the tree line. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but Tony would bet his life on it being the jet that T’Challa had given them, hidden by camouflage.

Now that he could see in person the black smudge, Tony was sure that it was T’Challa’s jet, but he didn’t want to land to confirm it. From there he followed the jet to a small house. There was more than one house on the outskirts, but the house that he was eyeing had several ominous black trucks parked in front of it.

Tony had known that he couldn’t have been the only one that had made Sam in the pictures from the crash, but he had hoped that everyone else would be a slow step behind. But the trucks only confirmed his pessimistic thought that they might already be too late.

Ross’ voice sounded in his ear, demanding more proof that Barnes and Steve were indeed in that house, but Tony ignored the man. He knew that they were, even without solid evidence. Besides, he just didn't have the time to try to convince Ross that Steve and Barnes were there; they were so close to finally getting them and he wasn’t going to let the men from the black trucks take them first.

“Boys, they already have company,” Tony said, his voice announced over the group comms. “We’re going in hot.” Tony wasn’t sure what that exactly meant, but he had heard it once in a movie and it sounded good.

“You get him alive, Stark,” Ross’ voice crackled in through Tony’s helmet. “Do you understand? _Alive_ , dammit.”  

Tony didn’t bother to reply to that; even he didn’t know what he would do when faced with Barnes again. When he saw his parents’ killer, he might not be able to stop from ending the other man’s life. The only reason he hadn’t succeeded last time was because Steve had been there, but Steve might not be there to jump between them this time. 

* * *

 

Bucky knew that he was the distraction; that he needed to be Hydra's main focus, giving Sam time to fully recover from the gas in order to be functioning for when Steve came up with an escape plan. He knew that Steve wouldn't let Weber's sick game last long; they both knew the rest of Hydra would eventually show up to take him away and they needed to be far away before that happened. He also knew that Steve couldn't stand the idea of what was about to be done to him. Bucky had told him that he could handle it, and he could, but that didn’t stop the trickles of numb fear to bleed through his mind as they led him into the interrogation room, stripped off his jacket and shirt, and planted him down onto the dusty chair.

Weber was wheeled in and he eagerly watched as the straps were placed over Bucky’s arm and legs.

Bucky wasn’t sure what Weber was planning on doing; he had to know that the straps would never hold him, but perhaps his mind was too far gone for him to fully plan this through. Besides, Bucky wasn't planning on ripping out of the restraints until he heard or saw Steve give a signal of some kind. 

“Sir,” said one of the soldiers, a sergeant, from Weber’s side. He looked down at the old man nervously. “They are right, we can’t give the Asset back to Hydra ruined. Whatever you plan on doing to him will ruin him.”

Weber gave the soldier a foul look, but the soldier didn’t back down. His back straightened and his voice grew stronger. 

“Sir, I understand what happened to you was wrong, but this...we could be killed for this.”

“Then don’t watch,” Weber spat. He gestured for a different soldier to step forward. “The knives first.”

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes to slits as he watched the young soldier step forward. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, as he worked on controlling his breathing.

Bucky’s attention was fully focused on the small knife as it made the first cut into him. His teeth clamped down as blood appeared from the incision; it wasn’t a shallow cut, but it also wasn’t deep enough to cause real damage to him in the long run.

“Again!” Weber hissed from his chair. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, eagerly watching the soldier dig into Bucky again.

And again, and again.

Bucky allowed the pain to wash over him, feeling it, but not letting it rule him. His eyes glazed over slightly as he stared at the web filled ceiling. 

“Make him hurt!” Weber cried out after a few long moments, echoing in the small room. 

The burning pain from the knife stopped momentarily as the soldier’s hand connected with the side of Bucky’s face with a loud crack, jarring Bucky in his seat. Blood filled Bucky's mouth from where his teeth has bitten the tip of his tongue. 

The soldier took a step back, panting slightly. His eyes narrowed at Bucky. He leaned over the other man, hands on both sides of the chair. His face hovered over Bucky's, glaring down at Bucky’s blue eyes. 

“Make a sound, damn you!”

Clearly, Bucky’s continued silence was unnerving the soldier.

Slowly, Bucky’s lips pulled back over bloody teeth into a humorless grin. The grin slipped and Bucky spat the blood from his mouth, splattering it across the soldier's pale and sweaty face. He jerked back, one hand swiping at his face, leaving red streaks in his wake.  

With a growl, the soldier started again, this time attacking Bucky's wrist and palm. He jabbed and cut into Bucky, wanting and waiting for a reaction from him. But the pain meant nothing to Bucky; he had endured far worse at the hands of the real Hydra, and he made no sound. 

The soldier moved from Bucky's hand, starting again on Bucky's chest. 

Bucky's head lolled to the side, watching indifferently as the young soldier’s hands turned red with his blood.

“Stop,” Weber commanded, halting the soldier mid-cut.

The soldier removed the scalpel from Bucky’s chest, twisting it slightly. Blood oozed from the wound, trailing down Bucky’s chest to his tense stomach.

“The water now,” Weber said, nodding to the now full tub of water in the corner.

Three soldiers came forward, kicking the wheels on Bucky’s chair into action. They pushed him to the tub, lowering the chair so that his head hung over the still water.  

With a muttered curse, the sergeant turned and stalked from the room, but Bucky didn’t have any attention to spare as a towel was placed almost gently over his face and the water began to flow.

* * *

 

The torture room was eerily quiet, not what either Steve or Sam expected when Weber had had dragged Bucky away. Not that they had expected Bucky scream and cry for it to stop, but they had expected something more than just silence.

Both of them had been sat down, with their backs to one wall. The remaining five soldiers had been given the job of watching them. They all stared Steve and Sam intently, as if they knew that an escape plan was brewing.

Sam leaned to Steve. “It’s too damn quiet in there,” his voice was still hoarse, but growing stronger.

“Agreed,” Steve responded grimly. He forced away images of all the horrific things he imagined were being done to his friend. Again. Not only was Steve actually present for the latest batch of injustices being done to Bucky, but he also wasn’t able to do a damn thing about it. He could only sit by and listen helplessly for any sound of his friend's distress.  

“How do you wanna play this, Cap?” Sam asked, his voice too low for the soldiers to hear. “We’ve gotta get outta here.”

Steve’s mouth opened to reply, but he wasn’t given a chance; a soldier with sergeant stripes on his arm entered the room with a dark scowl on his face.

Steve’s eyes tracked the sergeant as he moved across the room to where their bags had been left in a pile after they had been searched. He dropped down to one knee, digging through the duffels until he reached the one he wanted.

Steve felt his stomach drop as the sergeant pulled the black case that T’Challa had given them.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded loudly.

The sergeant merely gave Steve a look before leaving the room again.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked.

“It’s his arm,” Steve snapped back, his wrists straining against the metal cuffs. “It’s his fucking metal arm.”

“Bucky’s?” Sam demanded. “How the hell did that get there?”

“T’Challa,” Steve said tersely. “He gave it to me. We both knew that Bucky was going to need it before long.”

“Why do they want it?” Sam asked. “What are they planning on doing to him?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. He could feel the metal around his wrists beginning to give under his pulling. “But I don’t think we want to find out.”     

* * *

 

Bucky could handle the blood and the semi-deep slices. He could handle the punches and the slaps, but he knew when the sergeant entered the room again with T’Challa’s black case that he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Bucky ignored the current pain that pulsed through him, watching as the sergeant put down the case on the small table and opened the clasps.

“Stop,” the sergeant commanded his men.  

The soldiers did so, hauling Bucky’s chair back into place, before wheeling him away from the tub to their sergeant.

The water had slicked Bucky’s hair away from his face and had cleaned away most of the blood that had clung to his skin. Some of the cuts still bled sluggishly down his chest and stomach, mixing with the water.  

Bucky watched in apprehension as the sergeant pulled open the case.

“What’s this?” Weber demanded, turning in his chair to glare at the other soldier.

“Your game has gone on long enough, Weber. You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to return Hydra’s property back to Hydra.”

“What have you done?” Weber hissed, pale hands clawing at the armrests of his chair.

“I’ve called them. They’re on their way now. They weren’t pleased about your game, but they’re willing to forgive it. If we return him in one piece,” the sergeant said calmly. He reached inside the case. “I found his arm among their belongings. It’s time for the Asset to be whole again.”

He removed the gleaming arm, holding it almost reverently. He nodded to one of his men, who jabbed a large syringe into Bucky’s bare arm before he could make any move.

The large dose of whatever it was that they pumped into him immediately weakened Bucky’s limbs, stopping the escape that he had been about to make.

“No,” he said, first in German, then in Russian, before settling on English. “I don’t want it. Please. No.”

The sergeant ignored him, but Weber leaned forward, eagerly eating up the sudden reaction from Bucky. Weber didn't care what type of method was used, he only wanted to make Bucky suffer.

“Give it to him,” Weber demanded. “Give it to him!”

“No, _nonono_ , no,” Bucky said, his voice growing stronger, but his arm and legs remained unresponsive. “Stop, stop.”

The small black covering that had been placed over the silver stump of his arm was removed, and the metal arm neared.

Images assaulted the inside of Bucky’s mind: the first time he had been given the arm, one of the times his mind had been ripped inside out, the numerous tests that had been done on his mind and his body, and on and on it went.

Bucky didn’t bother to stop the first scream that ripped from his throat. It tore out of him and seemed to go on and on before he had to stop for breath, but that was only a short pause before the scream started again.

* * *

 

The second Bucky’s screams reached their ears, Steve ripped his cuffs in two.

Guns were immediately jabbed into Steve’s face, the soldiers had been ordered not to kill the Captain, but if they had to they were willing to use their weapons against him. However, their guns were no use against Steve’s wrath.

Within seconds, Steve had put the remaining soldiers down, unconscious, not dead. Yet, anyway.

After fishing the keys from one of the soldier’s belts, he helped Sam up, unlocking the cuffs from his friend’s wrists.

“Get your gun,” Steve commanded grimly as he found his among their bags.

Coughing slightly, Sam did as Steve commanded, taking Bucky’s AR15 and a pistol. He jabbed the pistol into his belt and pressed the AR15 to his shoulder, and waited for Steve to make the first move.

Steve was desperately missing his shield, but the Glock that Bucky had given him would have to do.

“Let’s go,” Steve said, moving forward with caution only learned from war.

The hall that led to the torture room loomed before them, seeming darker and somehow more sinister than before. Light streamed from the open door at the end of the hall, dark shapes crossing through the light as the soldiers moved in the room.

Bucky’s screams had faded, but had been replaced with a low growl that sounded more animalistic than human.

Both Steve and Sam froze as a buzz of an engine sounded out above the house. Steve shot Sam an urgent look over his shoulder; the rest of Hydra had arrived and they were out of time.

With a jerk of his chin, Steve picked up his pace, half-running to the room. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Sam was following, keeping up with Steve’s speed.

They burst into the room, Steve first, with Sam following closely behind. Steve’s blues eyes took the scene in the room within a matter of seconds: most of the soldiers were spread out, watching the spectacle, while Weber sat near Bucky in the middle of the room. The sergeant was closet to Bucky’s limp form, finishing the process of re-attaching T’Challa’s metal arm to Bucky’s stump. The process might have taken longer in the past, but the changes made to Bucky’s stump and new arm by T’Challa’s scientists had sped up the procedure so that even someone as inexperienced as Steve could do it.

Steve’s eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched at the sight of his friend’s sweat slicked forehead and silted eyes. He didn’t give any of the men in the room a chance to recover from their surprise at Steve and Sam’s sudden appearance. He fired off two rapid shots, dropping the sergeant and the closest soldier.

From behind him, Sam’s rifle sounded, hitting the remaining soldiers. Sam had followed Steve’s lead with nonlethal shots to the legs of the soldiers.

Weber was screaming something unintelligible from his chair, but he wasn’t a threat as far as Steve was concerned. He paced forward, reaching one booted foot forward to kick the wheelchair out of the way. Weber’s chair skidded back, away from Bucky.

The sergeant lay on the ground at Bucky’s chair in a growing pool of blood. He glared up at Steve, his lips pulled back into a growl. Taking a blood stained hand from his wounded leg, he reached for his pistol, pulling it out to point at Steve.

“Hail Hydra,” he said, finger beginning to tighten around the trigger.

Steve didn’t hesitate to put a bullet into the man’s head, before he turned his attention to Bucky.

Shoving the gun into his belt, Steve fumbled with the straps that held Bucky down. He vaguely wondered why Bucky had allowed them to strap him down; he could’ve easily broken from the restraints.

“Bucky?” Steve said, pulling the last of the leather from his friend. He gripped Bucky’s lolling head between both hands. “Bucky, are you with me?”

Bucky’s blue eyes were flickering rapidly as he stared unseeingly past Steve. His teeth were clenched, making his jaw jump under the strain.

“They gave him something,” Steve called to Sam. “I’m going to need help.”

He started to pulled Bucky up into a sitting position before he wrapped Bucky’s flesh arm over his shoulder, heaving his friend up from the chair to a hunched standing position.              

“Sam,” Steve said over his shoulder.

Sam appeared on Bucky’s other side. He gave Bucky’s new metal arm a hesitant look, but he didn’t pause when he pulled it over his shoulder, taking some of Bucky’s weight.

“I made sure the rest of them were secure,” Sam said, nodding to the groaning men heaped in the edges of the room.

“Good,” Steve said. They started moving with Bucky between them. “We need to get out of here before whoever was in those jets make it in here.” The words were optimistic at best; both Sam and Steve knew that it was highly likely that the men from the jets that they had heard were already inside.

The trip down the hall was difficult with Bucky’s incoherent mutterings and heavy body, but they moved with as much speed as they were able.

In Steve’s free hand, he had taken out his Glock, knowing that Sam had done the same with a pistol that he had grabbed from earlier.

They entered the room, expecting more Hydra men, expecting not to make it from the firefight that was sure to ensue.

The three bodies froze as they took in the scene in the room.

The red and gold suit of metal that stood in the middle of black clad soldiers watched them, empty and glowing eyes stared at them from the faceplate.

“Hey, guys,” Tony’s voice floated out. He raised a palm up, circle shining from it. “I see you have a bit of a Hydra problem here.”

“Tony,” Steve said, hitching Bucky up as he straightened. “I was wondering when you’d catch up to us.”

“It was only a matter of time,” Tony agreed.

“I suppose you’ve come for him,” Steve said, voice not betraying the swirl of emotions that rippled through his chest.

“And you, if that makes you feel special,” Tony said. “But, yeah, mostly him.”

Tony might have been trying to hide his emotions, but Steve could hear the hate in Tony’s sentence. He tightened his grip on Bucky.

“So, nothing’s changed.”

It wasn’t a question, but Tony answered anyway, “No, nothing’s changed. He still killed my mom and countless others, and I’m not going to let you take him away again. He’s going to answer for what he’s done.” Tony’s head cocked to the side. “What’s wrong with him anyway? I was expecting more of a fight from him. I mean, the last time he tried to rip my arc reactor out and I shot his arm off,” Tony trailed off and Steve knew that he was looking at Bucky’s new metal arm.

“What happens now?” Sam said, speaking for the first time. “You take just Bucky or you take all of us?”

“All of you, Wilson,” Tony said. “Sorry, buddy.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said bitterly.

“Tony,” Steve warned, “you do this, and there’s no going back.”

“There was no going back last time too,” Tony said. “I’m not losing any sleep over it.”

That stung a little, but Steve ignored it. “We’re not going without a fight.”

“I would’ve been disappointed any other way,” Tony said and the soldiers around him surged forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter was really hard to write. I feel like it's a little cheesy and a lot unrealistic. But these things needed to happen for the story to move along. Also, I really suck at writing fight scenes, which is why I tend to avoid them if I can. But I'm hoping that the avoided fight scenes in this chapter were actually okay and worked. Maybe let me know?  
> Also, apparently I'm super into twenty one pilots because the last three chapters' titles have all been lyrics from their songs. Actually, I don't know why I said "apparently" because I've been super into that band for years. But yeah, this chapter title is from their latest song: Heathens. It's super sweet, you guys. I'm probably making everyone sick of it because I keep playing it. But whatever. Anyway.  
> Thanks for the kudos and the comment from mynameisbuckybarnes. I really appreciate everyone of them! Plus, I tend to write a little faster when I know that people are enjoying this as much as I am.


	6. Smile, the Worst is Yet to Come

"It was a good try," Tony said. He leaned forward towards the cage on the quinjet that housed Steve. "Hell, if we didn't have as many men as we did, I think you probably would have gotten away."

The rest of Tony's men sat away from Tony and Steve, giving them some privacy. Towards the other end of the jet, Sam was cuffed in his own cage. Bucky had been injected with a sedative and put into the glass cage that had held him before, with a few modifications made by Tony, but Bucky was in a completely separate quinjet, away from Steve and Sam.

Steve's bowed head stared down at the large steel cuffs that encased his whole hands, similar to the ones that Rumlow had used on him back before SHIELD fell. His blond hair hung around his face, and his clothes were ripped from where he had fought to keep Bucky from them.

Tony sat on the bench opposite the cage, his Iron Man suit off, replaced with causal clothes; Tony clearly didn't expect to run into any more trouble here on out.

"Steve?" Tony said. "Are you—?"

"Shut up," Steve said, breaking into Tony's words. He lifted his head, blue eyes flashing. "I told you, if you did this, there would be no going back."

"Steve, c'mon, you know that they're not going to keep you locked up forever. You or Sam," Tony said.

"No, they're just going to lock up Bucky. And are you even sure that's all they're going to do to him?"

A spark of anger ignited in Tony's chest. "Of course. I forgot. You don't care about anyone else, only Bucky."

"I do care!" Steve said, jerking forward in the cage. "How could you even—?"

"You didn't even blink when I mentioned Sam," Tony cut in. "Clearly, you're not concerned about what happens to him, your only friend around these parts, I might add."

"Sam _is_ my friend," Steve said. "But Sam doesn't have half the world out for his blood. Bucky does."

"And why is that again? Oh yeah, because Bucky was an assassin for Hydra. Bucky _killed_ people in cold blood for years for them."

"Bucky didn't have a choice," Steve's voice rose.

"We all have a choice," Tony insisted.

"He didn't. You didn't see what they did to him. You don't know."

"Neither do you."

Steve's mouth snapped shut because Tony was right: he didn't know, not really. But Tony wasn't done; he wasn't going to leave it alone.

"You have no idea what happened to him, how he's changed, and yet you're still so insistent that he's not to blame, that he hasn't done anything wrong," Tony's voice dripped with scorn. "You're naïve, Captain. You can't see that your _friend_ has changed. He's not even close to the man you once knew and he won't ever be that man again."

Steve's mouth pressed into a line before he spoke again. "I never said that he didn't do anything wrong. He's done plenty wrong," Steve said, quieter this time. "But so have you. So I have. No one's perfect, Tony."

"This isn't an argument about our faults, Steve," Tony said.

"Then what is it? What do you expect him to do? How can he make up for what he's done?" Steve asked. He paused, his mouth working as if he was trying to decide whether or not to speak again. After a long beat, he slowly opened it, ready to say what Tony didn't want to hear.

"Don't," Tony said, holding up a hand to stall Steve's words.

"Tony, your parents are gone. Nothing you do to Bucky will change that."

"Like I said before, Cap, I don't care," Tony said, his voice even, not betraying the warring of emotions that raged under the surface.

Steve sat back, his hands shifting on his lap. His eyes darkened. "What are you going to do? You're not going to let Ross get his hands on him, are you? You're going to kill him before that."

Tony felt a pang at Steve's cold words, words that were so sure of what Tony intended, so sure that Tony was the bad guy.

"I'm not..." Tony started, but stopped just as quickly. Not what? Going to kill Barnes? That was what he had wanted, wasn't it? From the start of this whole thing, Tony had three goals in mind: find Barnes, kill Barnes, and sleep well.

Well, he could tick the first item off that list. The second wasn't so easy; he had had second thoughts about it for some time because whatever he was, he wasn't a killer. But his dead parents called for Barnes' blood in Tony's mind, keeping him from sleep.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do," Tony finally said. "It's not completely up to me anymore. Thaddeus Ross isn't the only one that I'm working with. Do you remember Everett Ross? He's been working with us to get Barnes."

"Everett? What does he want?"

Tony shrugged; he wasn't really positive what either Ross wanted with Barnes.

"It doesn't matter," Steve said bitterly. "I can guess what both of them want without even having to think very hard."

Tony didn't argue with that; he wasn't stupid after all. He had known that both of the Rosses had been up to something, but at this point he wasn't sure he even cared what it was anymore.

Tony heaved a sigh, rubbing the heel of his palm into his temple, trying to stop the growing headache there.

Silence fell over them for a moment.

"Why are you doing all this?" Tony asked. "Yeah, I know that he's your friend," Tony stopped Steve before he answered with the same answer he had given him in Siberia. "But so am—was I."

He looked up to Steve, meeting Steve's regretful eyes.

"Why?" The fight had gone from Tony's words; he genuinely wanted to hear Steve's answer. He had to know why Steve, someone he considered a close friend, had betrayed him and everything they had worked so hard to build for what? A brainwashed assassin that Steve once knew?

"Because," Steve said softly. "He was my first friend. My _only_ friend for so many years. He was there when I lost my parents, when I had nothing. He was more than just my friend, he was family."

"But you made a home for yourself here," Tony said. "You became an Avenger and we became your family. How could you throw all of that away for someone that died years ago?" Tony held up a hand to pause whatever it was that Steve was going to say. "Because whether you like it or not, Steve, your Bucky, the Bucky that you knew, is gone. He died during the war."

"Don't you see?" Steve asked. "What lengths would you go if someone you loved was alive?" He didn't even dare mentioned Tony's mom, but they both knew that was who he meant. "You would do anything to get her back, to make sure that she was safe."

Tony didn't answer. He could lie and say that he wouldn't, that he would let his mother stay dead, but it was nowhere close to the truth.

"I know," Steve paused. "I know that when I chose Bucky over you and the team, I messed things up. I divided the team, I wrecked the family that we made for ourselves. But, like you said, we all have choices to make and I made mine. I chose him."

So that was it. Tony sat back. He didn't have anything more to say to Steve because the Captain was right. He had made his choice the minute Bucky had appeared. It was time for Tony to make his.

But he didn't want to. Not yet, not when he could still somehow pretend that nothing had changed between the Avengers, that they were still together, still family.

"I'd get some rest, Captain," Tony finally said. "You're going to need it."

* * *

Bucky blinked awake, squinting at the shiny, glowing glass that reflected his image back to him.

His confused face rapidly turned into panic as he realized that he had no idea where he was.

Bucky tried to jerk forward, but his progress was cut short as something caught across his chest, shoving the air from his lungs.

Looking down, Bucky saw a familiar metal strap hugging his chest. His arms, _both_ arms, were being held down by more metal straps; his new metal arm had twice the amount of restraint than his flesh arm.

Bile filled Bucky's mouth at the sight of his new, gleaming arm. He hadn't wanted it when Steve had offered it to him, but Steve had given him the choice to accept or decline. Those Hydra bastards hadn't; not they had the first time either.

For the first time in a long time, anger began to burn in his stomach. It started slowly, but began to build with each passing second. From the moment he had woken up, captured by Hydra, his ability to make his own decisions had been taken away. He had lived that way for years without realizing what had been stolen from him. When Steve had burned most of Hydra from SHIELD, he had set Bucky free. And for a time, Bucky had been his own man, but it had once again been taken away from him when Zemo set out to destroy the Avengers.

It seemed like the only choice he had made freely was when he had decided to go into cryosleep, but even that had seemed like it had been forced on him. He had just wanted his part in the Zemo affair to end; he wanted to be taken out of the equation so Steve and the others could attempt to get on with their lives.

Clearly, it hadn't worked, and now whoever had him, Hydra or someone else, were going to force their will on him.

No fucking way.

He was done sitting back and letting it happen. He was going to figure out where he was and then he was going to get out and kick his captors' asses.

He swallowed, glaring down at his metal hand.

Now that he had the arm he was going to have to accept it and deal with it. Of course, that was easier said than done, but he would have to try.

He curled his metal fingers experimentally, watching them respond.

"Glad to see you settling in," a voice sounded in the glass box, emitted from speakers of some kind.

Bucky's head jerked up, peering through the glass to the dark room.

"Oh, sorry, you probably can't see very well," the voice continued.

Lights outside the box flared up, throwing the room into focus. It was almost completely empty, except for the single chair that sat in front of the glass box. A man sat on the chair, legs crossed and hands clasped together on his knees.

"Where's Steve?" Bucky asked, his voice rough. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The small man's mouth quirked. "Is Captain Rogers your priority?"

Bucky stared at him. He wasn't going to give that question an answer, because hell yes, Steve was.

"Captain Rogers is fine. He and Sam Wilson are being held in another part of this facility," the man paused. "You're in the CIA's Berlin base once again; Tony Stark and my men retrieved you from the Hydra safe house a few hours ago. As for me, I'm Everett Ross, Director of this base."

A long huff of breath eased out of Bucky's lungs. So Tony had finally caught up to them. Bucky didn't know much about the man, but from what Steve had told him, he knew that it had been only a matter of time before Tony had found them.

If he was being held back in Berlin, his prison was going to be better equipped to hold him. After what had happened last time, he was sure that they weren't going to take any chances with him escaping again.

"What are you going to do to me?" Bucky finally asked.

Everett's head cocked to the side. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took Bucky in.

"What makes you think that we're going to do something to you?"

"Fine. What do you want with me?" Bucky amended, anger coloring his voice for the first time.

Everett's lips curled upward into an almost smile. He leaned back in his chair.

"You're a wanted man, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky shrugged; this wasn't news.

"Wherever you go, someone will always be watching and waiting for you," Everett continued. "Some people want to bring you to justice for your past crimes as the Winter Soldier."

Bucky concealed a wince. Tony Stark wasn't the only man who wanted Bucky's head on a pike; there had to be countless others who would want the same thing when they found out that he had been captured again.

"Others still want to lock you up and toss away the key," Everett said. He gave a short pause. "But those men are fools."

Bucky would've crossed his arms over his chest if he could.

"What do _you_ want with me?" he asked.

"I want you to become an American again," Everett said. "I want you to serve your country like you once did." The words were spoken with barely concealed eagerness.

Bucky frowned. "What are you saying? You want me to come work for your government?"

"Not just my—our government. I want you to work for me. I want you to become the Winter Soldier once again, but this time for me. You can do so much good if you had someone to direct you and show you the way," Everett said, his excitement bleeding through his voice and his posture.

Bucky couldn't help it; he snorted.

Everett flinched at the sound, a small frown easing between his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You want me to do the same damn thing that Hydra was having me do," Bucky said. "You want me to kill who you say needs to be killed. For the good of the country, right? That's the same line that Hydra fed me for years. Except, unlike now, I didn't have a choice but to believe them. I was force fed the Hydra ideals for years until it was tattooed behind my eyelids and if I started to slip they could always scrub me and start again. You don't have that, do you? You can't force me to work for you." Bucky sneered. "I might not have had a choice back then, but I do now. I'm not going to become the Winter Soldier for you or anyone else again."

Everett's lips thinned. He stood up, brushing the creases out of his pants.

"I'm afraid, Soldier, that you may not have the choice that you think you do."

Bucky's jaw clenched and his stomach dropped. They couldn't have it? Could they?

"Wait," he called, stopping Everett. "What do you mean?"

Everett gave Bucky a sympathetic smile. "I hope you'll change your mind, Soldier. Think of all the good that we can achieve together."

He turned on his heel, walking from the room, deaf to Bucky's indignant cries for an explanation.

The room's light clicked off, and Bucky was left alone in the cold glare of the glass box's lights.

His chest heaved as he stared at where Everett had stood. He would not be used by anyone again, but if they had the Red Book, or even one of Hydra's brainwashing machines, he might not have a choice.

* * *

Steve and Sam shared a cell. Well, they were in the same room, but a wall of metal bars ran down the room, cutting them off from one another.

Both of them sat at the bars, their backs pressed into the cold metal so that they were facing away from each other.

"What do you think they're going to do to him?" Sam asked, breaking into the silence that had reigned over them for the past few hours. He turned his head slightly, so that he could see Steve out of the corner of his eye.

Steve stared straight ahead at the wall on his side of the cell. His knees were pulled up and he rested his clasped hands on them.

"I'm not sure," he finally said. "You know what Tony wants, but Ross won't let that happen to him. But that doesn't exactly mean that Bucky is safe from Tony or anyone else."

Steve could feel Sam hesitating behind him. Steve turned a little.

"What?"

Sam chewed on his lip for a moment. "What's our worst case scenario? If we don't get out of here, what's going to happen to him and us?"

"Worst case? Bucky dies. But you know as well as I do that if they find a way to control him, that's almost as bad." Steve didn't mention the Red Book; he didn't know who was listening. "Even if the so-called good guys are the ones giving him his orders, there's no way to predict the damage it'll do on not only his mind, but also the damage he could cause to others."

Steve stopped, the reality of their situation finally beginning to set in. His hands tightened into fists on his knees, and he let his head sag briefly to his chest.

"This is bad," Sam said. The words were simplistic, but very true. There wasn't a way out of their cells unless they had outside help, or at the very least time to plan an escape. But help and time wasn't something they had.

Steve's lips quirked into a humorless grin. "You're telling me."

After a moment of almost comfortable silence, Sam coughed faintly. "I'm...I'm sorry about everything that I said about Bucky before."

Steve dropped his hands to the ground to spin himself fully around. Sam mirrored the action so that they were facing each other.

"I know my constant poking at him wasn't helping anyone," Sam continued. He held Steve's gaze with his own. "Yeah, he mighta screwed up with the safe house, but it was only a matter of time before they all found us anyway."

Steve frowned slightly. "Why the sudden change of heart? I mean, I'm glad to hear it, Sam, but...why?"

"Back at the house, you and Bucky could have made it out of there when the Hydra men first showed up," Sam held up a hand to stop Steve's protests. "We all knew it. But you didn't. You both stayed because of me. I may have been hacking up a lung, but I could still see and hear. I know Bucky only went with that Weber bastard to give us— _me_ time." Sam stopped, dropping his gaze to his lap.

Steve leaned forward, giving Sam a small smile. "Does this mean that you're friends now?"

The words broke the tense mood and Sam relaxed. He returned the smile with a grin of his own. "Hell no. I'm just not going to question everything he does when he get outta here."

Steve laughed. "Good." He eyed the rest of their combined cell. "Now that the two of you are almost friends, we just need to figure a way out of this."

* * *

"I want to see him," Tony said as a greeting.

Both Everett and Ross turned to glare at him. They had been deep in a conversation that had sounded like it was edging into an argument.

"What?" Everett snapped.

"I want to see Barnes," Tony said slowly and clearly. "I brought him in, I deserve to see the man who killed my parents."

"And do what?" Ross asked. "Kill him? That's not going to happen, Stark."

"I'm not going to kill him." Wasn't he?

"Then what? You want to talk to him?" Everett snorted. "Stark, you're a smart man, you know that nothing will change when you speak to him. What can you hope to achieve by it?"

"Fine," Tony allowed. "It may not change what he's done. That's true. But this isn't about that. Not really. I know you both need him to talk, but let me take a wild guess here, he's not talking to either of you. Maybe he'd be more willing to talk to me."

That gave both Rosses pause. They shared a look.

"Go on," Everett said.

"Well," Tony started, speaking as the idea took form. "Obviously, you both need him for something, and I assume that you've both tried to talk to him about it and he's refused whatever it is."

He got a nod from Everett, but not from Ross. Interesting.

Tony plowed on. "Well, he knows me—."

"Because you tried to kill him," Ross interjected.

"He knows that he owes me more than just a conversation," Tony continued as if there had been no interruption. "He remembers killing my parents, he knows that their deaths are on his hands. I deserve more than just a conversation from him and he knows it." Tony looked at both men, waiting for their verdict.

Everett taped a finger against his chin, staring hard at Tony. He turned to Ross.

"It's not a bad idea."

"Yes it is," Ross shot back, ignoring Tony for the moment. "You let him in there and there's no telling what he'll do. I let him in to see the prisoners in the Raft and he muted our mics so he could get the information he needed from Wilson. Give him half the chance and he'll do it again."

"Excuse me," Tony said. "There's nothing that I want from Barnes, why would I do something like that?"

"You want him dead," Ross threw over his shoulder, still glaring down at Everett. "You let Stark in there, you have to tell him what you want from Barnes. Are you willing to let Tony Stark, the man who couldn't keep his identity as Iron Man secret for longer than a couple of weeks, in on your grand plan?"

Everett stared up at Ross. "It's not your call. This is _my_ base, Barnes is under _my_ supervision, and I have the book."

Ross' mouth twisted under his white moustache. "The fucking book that you've been holding onto, but haven't used yet? That book?"

Tony frowned. He raised his hand. "Uh, what book?"

Both Rosses jabbed out a finger to silence Tony. He took half a step back from their aggressive and quivering fingers.

"You know that I don't want to use it unless I have to. What good would he be if he wasn't loyal to us? He wasn't loyal to Hydra, not really, and look how that turned out," Everett said.

"He's never going to go for it," Ross insisted. "You've already tried. I was upstairs, watching the exchange and Barnes seemed pretty clear on his choice."

Both men stared at each other, lips pressed into thin lines.

Everett turned, ending his conversation with Ross. "Stark," he gestured for the billionaire to follow him as he started to leave his office. "You have my permission to talk to Barnes. I'm going to give you a rundown of what I want from him and you will do your best to convince him." He stopped abruptly, almost causing Tony to run into his shoulder. "If you make any move that I don't like, I'll pull the plug and you won't have another chance."

"Agreed," Tony said easily before falling back in step with Everett.

* * *

After the initial shock that Everett wanted to use Barnes as his own personal assassin, Tony was on his way to the underground room where Barnes was being held.

Everett had explained that he was to try and convince Barnes that this was a way to make up for all his past sins; to try and become the Bucky Barnes that he had once been.

Tony thought it was a load of garbage.

Everett didn't want Barnes to be forgiven; he couldn't care less about Barnes' inner turmoil. He only wanted to use Barnes for his own purposes, just like the rest of them.

There was a pang of sympathy in Tony's chest, but he brutally clamped down on it. He had no sympathy for his parents' killer.

He didn't really think that he could make a convincing argument for Everett's goal, but he didn't mention that to Everett. He wanted to see Barnes face to face and that wasn't going to happen if Everett didn't think Tony could make a difference.

Tony _needed_ to see Barnes. He had known that from the moment they had loaded the unconscious Barnes onto the quinjet. The need pounded in his head with each step he took. He wasn't sure why he needed this, but he hoped for some sort of closure from the conversation and if that didn't work than maybe he really would ignore Everett and do what Ross feared he would, and break Barnes out only to kill him.

Maybe when Barnes was dead, Tony's mind would quiet and he would be able to sleep again.

"Here we are, sir," one of Everett's robot agents said as the elevator came to a stop, jarring Tony from his darks thoughts about how he would kill Barnes. "Good luck." The doors slide open revealing the dark room beyond.

Tony gave the agent a little wave of acknowledgement, but his eyes completely focused on the glowing glass box in the middle of the room.

He stepped out of the elevator, still staring ahead. He ignored everything else in the room, not that there was much, fixing his gaze on the man sitting in the box.

Barnes was strapped to a chair inside, his head bowed low over his chest, hair covering his face. Both his arms were held down by multiple metal bands, especially the metal arm. Thick straps were across Barnes' chest and stomach, pulling tight across the black fabric of the shirt that Ross' men had put on him.

Tony tried not to think about the mess of blood that had littered Barnes' chest when they had pulled him away from Steve and Sam. He tried not to think about what the Hydra men had been doing to him before they had gotten there.

No sympathy for the killer.

Lights flickered on overhead, causing Tony to blink rapidly in the sudden glow.

Barnes jerked faintly as the lights turned on, raising his head to see who had entered. He froze when he caught sight of Tony, eyes widening slightly.

Tony stopped a few feet from the box, near the chair. He rested a hand on the edge of it, using it to ground him. He could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, but he didn't think he was breathing, the oxygen seemed like it had been sucked from his body.

Both men stared at each other in silence.

"Have you come to kill me?" Barnes finally asked, his voice coming from speakers outside of the box. His voice was soft, even on the crackling speakers, but there was gleam in Barnes' blue eyes that Tony couldn't quite place. It wasn't fear or even resignation, it was something closer to anger.

Tony swallowed; the anger wasn't new, Barnes had been pretty livid when he had tried to rip Tony's arc reactor out of his chest, but the anger in Barnes' eyes was different. This anger wasn't at Tony, or at least Tony thought it wasn't; it seemed like it was more directed at Barnes' whole situation. Tony was a bit surprised at that; he thought for sure that Barnes would be ready for round two with him. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, after all.

Tony licked his lips carefully. "No, I'm not going to kill you."

Not yet anyway. Or, maybe not ever. Tony ran a frustrated hand through his hair, leaving his thick locks sticking up. What the hell did he want anyway? Seeing Barnes up close wasn't making anything clearer.

"Good," Barnes said, breaking into Tony's inner turmoil. "I'd prefer not to be killed by you." He paused. "Besides, I don't think they would have let you in if you were planning on killing me."

"Then why'd you ask," Tony said a little huffily, "if you were so sure that I wasn't going to kill you?"

"I wanted to see what you'd say," Barnes said. If he could've leaned back into his chair, he would have. He eyed Tony, looking him up and down. "Steve's told me that you're smart and determined. If you wanted to kill me, Everett Ross wouldn't be able to stop you. No one would."

"Steve did," Tony pointed out. "He stopped me from killing you before."

Barnes' lips twitched in an almost smile. "And he would again...He's my friend."

Friend. The word grinded at Tony. He snorted, anger sparking back up. " _Friend?_ Apparently, your friendship is all that matters to the both of you. You don't care who gets caught in the crossfire as long as both of you make it out, right?"

Barnes cocked his head to the side. "Is that what you think of Steve? You think that he doesn't care? I thought you were friends too."

Tony bristled under Barnes' tone. "You don't know anything about me and him. Don't presume to understand us."

"But you _are_ friends?" Barnes persisted, his eyes catching Tony's and refusing to let go. "Then you've got to know that Steve wouldn't let anyone get hurt because of him. He would never allow it," he paused, face falling a little. "But me...when it comes to me, Steve is willing to make questionable choices. They may not be the right choices, but they're his to make."

"So you're saying that Steve made the choice to destroy the family that we built together in the Avengers for _you?_ " Tony said, his voice sharp. "You're not denying that he chose you over me."

Barnes shook his head. "I'm not."

Tony stalked forward, pressing his knuckles against the glass. "You bastard. You don't even care, do you?"

Barnes glanced at Tony's white knuckles. "Of course I care, but it wasn't my decision. It's never my decision." That part was huffed under his breath, but Tony still heard it.

He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. His mouth worked, but he didn't say anything. He understood what Barnes was saying; everyone made their own choices because everyone had the free will to do so. Everyone except him. Barnes was saying that he never had the ability to make his own decisions.

A breath of air hissed from Tony's lips. "Are you saying that when you killed my mom, you didn't have a choice?" The words were even, but they could both hear the anger shimmering beneath them.

Barnes shook his head. "I never had a choice," he paused. "But I did it. And I will never be able to make up for what I did."

"Nothing you say will change anything!" Tony yelled, his voice erupting from his throat. "It doesn't matter that you didn't have a choice, you did it. It doesn't matter that you're sorry, it happened."

"I know." The fight seemed to go out of Barnes and he slumped against the metal straps holding him in place. "I know."

Tony's lips were curled over his teeth in a sneer. "You're broken, Barnes, and you can't be fixed." He wanted the words to hurt Barnes as much as Tony was hurting. "You may have gotten a new metal arm. You may be remembering the ol' days with Steve, but that doesn't mean you're fixed. You're fractured and you always will be."

Barnes' face was impassive, cold and blank. He stared at Tony, whose chest with heaving with emotion.

"You done?"

"No," Tony snapped. "but if I say much more, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"Everett let you down here for a reason," Barnes said after a moment. "What does he want?"

"He wants you to reconsider his offer," Tony said, his voice back under control.

"Tell him, thanks, but no," Barnes said immediately.

Tony shrugged; he hadn't really tried, but after all their talk of choices, he knew that Barnes wasn't going to change his mind.

Before either of them could say anything more, the elevator doors dinged open and two more people exited.

Tony watched as Barnes stiffened and his face paled under the cold glare of the lights.

He turned. One of the robot agents was walking with another older man, who Tony recognized as the man the agents had been questioning.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Everett said I could talk to him—."

"He said you've had your chance. Now it's his," the agent jerked her chin at the other man.

The man, Anton, walked forward until he was standing next to Tony, but his eyes were glued on Barnes.

"Soldat," Anton said softly, almost lovingly. "Do you recognize me?"

Barnes nodded mutely, frozen to his chair.

"Good," Anton said happily. "Everett Ross has brought me in to help him. He wanted to know what makes you tick, Soldat, how to control you."

Tony looked to the agent, giving her a concerned look. Anton's voice had lowered into a tone that didn't sit well with Tony, but the agent was focused on the conversation.

"Did you tell them?" Barnes asked.

Anton nodded. "Of course. It's only a matter of time before he uses it."

"Of course," Barnes echoed. He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, effectively ending the conversation.

Tony looked from Barnes to Anton. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Anton ignored Tony. He stepped closer to the box, pressing his palm against the glass.

"Your time is coming to end, Sergeant Barnes. Soon only the Soldat will remain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I feel like this chapter might be garbage. I was hardcore struggling with it (it's slow, I know!) and then my sister told me that I've been jumping POVs too much (have I?) and that shook my confidence a little. She totally didn't mean to, but it did anyway, haha. So maybe you guys could leave me a comment and get my confidence back up there?  
> Thanks for all the kudos and the comment from mynameisbuckybarnes. Y'all are the best!


	7. My Friends and I Have Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note. There are some mentions of torture in this chapter and probably mental/physical abuse. It's nothing too bad, but I thought I should throw a warning out there!  
> Also, I have a bunch of small flashbacks towards the end of the chapter. They're all in italics, so hopefully it doesn't get too confusing.  
> Other than that, enjoy!

"I demand to know what's going on," Tony said, stalking into the observation room that held both Rosses and the remaining robot agents.

Ross gave Tony an unimpressed look before turning his attention back to the screen that showed Anton Grekov still talking to Barnes, but he was the only one talking, Barnes had shut down and refused to speak.

"I told you," Everett said mildly. "We're trying to get Barnes to join our side."

Ross' mouth thinned, something Tony didn't think he was meant to notice. He ignored it for the moment, giving his full attention to Everett.

"That's not all, is it?" Tony persisted. "Grekov, some Russian that apparently worked for Hydra on the Winter Soldier project is the same Russian that you're all deciding to trust," he paused. "I have more to say about that, but my main problem is that Grekov mentioned some book that caused Barnes to go completely blank on us. He's not talking to anyone anymore and it was all because Grekov brought up a damn book. Tell me what's going on."

Everett and Ross exchanged a look.

"First off," Everett said. "We're not idiots. We know not to trust Grekov."

"Then why is he in there antagonizing Barnes?" Tony asked, jabbing a finger at the screen.

"We wanted to see how Barnes would react," Everett said. "Obviously, Barnes still has residual feelings about what happened to him. Even if he doesn't remember everything about his past, he knows enough to remember Grekov."

"And what did that achieve?" Tony snapped. "Nothing. Barnes has shut down; he's not talking to anyone thanks to your experiment."

"We just wanted to see if he would respond to a man who played a part in controlling him. We wanted to see whether it made a difference with someone who had once commanded his obedience," put in one of the robot agents.

Tony shot the man a dark look, who backed up with raised hands. "And it's working so well." He gestured again to the blinking screen where Grekov was still talking to Barnes, switching from English to Russian every now and then. Barnes was frozen in his chair, head still bowed low over his chest.

"Besides, Grekov isn't the point," Tony said. "Tell me about the book he mentioned."

The Rosses exchanged a glance again.

"He's your problem," Ross said, throwing his hands up and turning his back on them. He nodded to one of the robot agents in the room. "Get Grekov out of there."

The agent nodded and swiftly exited the room.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Everett who was tapping a finger against his upper lip, debating whether or not to bring Tony completely in on their plan.

"You know I'll find out one way or another," Tony persisted.

"Fine," Everett said. "Grekov is talking about a book that we recovered from Zemo. Reading through the notes and questioning Zemo, we got enough information on what the book was used for."

Tony gave Everett a 'go on' gesture, keeping his smart mouth shut for once.

"The Russians apparently trained the Winter Soldier to respond to a string of words. Whoever speaks the words to the Soldier has his loyalty. We're not sure for how long, but that's something that we intend to find out. Especially if Barnes doesn't play ball."

Tony swallowed down the sick feeling that curled in his stomach. "What? Can you repeat that for me?" His voice sounded faint even to his own ears.

"We speak the words, Barnes' loyalty is ours," Ross cut in, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of the screen, watching Barnes who was finally alone in his box.

Tony's mouth worked as he tried to form words. He finally settled on: "That's insane."

"Why?" Ross said, turning and giving Tony a challenging look.

"Because we're the good guys," Tony sputtered.

Ross laughed in Tony's face.

"Get out of your dream world, Stark," Ross said. "Nobody's the 'good guys' anymore."

"Stark, you don't need to be part of this if you don't agree with our methods," Everett put in. "But you understand that you can't divulge this _classified_ information to anyone else."

"Ross," Tony tried again. "You're going along with this? You're doing all this to help the CIA use Barnes as an assassin for their purposes? You don't work for the CIA."

"Everett and I...have disagreed on many things when it comes to Barnes, especially in what he should be used for, but this is one thing that we both agree on. Barnes is just too damn dangerous to be—."

"What? Thinking on his own?" Tony interrupted. "You both realize that this, right here, is the reason my parents are dead."

"That's completely different, Stark," Ross said. "Hydra killed your parents. We're not Hydra, and we never will be."

"You're halfway there," Tony muttered, but quickly added. "Right, well, I'm leaving. I need to sleep. Thanks to your insistence to find Barnes, I haven't fully slept in days." He didn't want for them to dismiss him before leaving the room.

Tony stalked through the halls, livid at what he had just heard. He knew that the Rosses hadn't wanted to bring Barnes to justice, but he hadn't thought they would go as far as to take away the man's free will. Again.

He may not like Barnes, hell he sorta hated him, but that didn't mean he wanted to see what would happen to him if Everett managed to spout off the magic words and get Barnes to work for him.

Tony's step stuttered as he realized something. The last time someone had used the magic words had to have been Zemo when he had posed as the psychologist. Barnes had gone ape shit and broke out of the glass box, but up to that point he had been quiet and docile, even. It had been an abrupt shift in his personality. Not that Tony knew him very well, but Steve had somehow managed to get Barnes to cooperate enough before then.

Tony rubbed a hand down his face, feeling his stubble scrap against it; he hadn't had the time to sculpt his normal goatee and the rest of his beard was slowly starting to grow in.

He entered the room that he had been given earlier and slumped down in the chair that sat in front of the large computer screens.

He dipped his chin against his chest, trying to somehow sort his feelings out on this whole situation.

He really wanted to talk to someone, but the only person that he really wanted to talk to wasn't talking to him because they were "taking a break."

With a huff, Tony leaned forward, tapping at the keys below the computer. If he couldn't talk to Pepper than he was going to talk to someone else who was just as good.

The video connection beeped as it rang, before it was answered on the other side and Rhodey's face swam into view. He looked tired, the glow of his computer screen throwing the lines on his face into sharp focus.

"What time is it over there?" Tony asked as a greeting. "Did I wake you up?"

Rhodey shook his head. "Nah, I've been awake for a while now. What's up?"

Tony gave Rhodey a concerned look. "It's not...you should really be sleeping, Rhodes."

Rhodey waved a hand. "I just told you I'm good. I can't sleep, so I'd rather talk to you. Tell me what's going on. Did you find them?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"And...?" Rhodey asked. "Shouldn't you be celebrating or something? Wait, Barnes isn't dead, is he?" For a moment Rodney looked a little worried.

"No, I didn't kill him," Tony said. He didn't add that he had wanted to, and had even started planning out how he would do it. "I talked to him."

Rhodey blinked at him through the screen. "And he's not dead? Impressive control, Tony."

"Well, I couldn't get to him without some serious planning anyway," Tony said, forcing his voice to brighten for a brief moment. "But, I think...I think I'm not liking what Ross and Everett want to do with him."

"I take it you're not allowed to tell me exactly what that is," Rhodey said, holding up a hand to stop Tony from doing just that. "So please don't get in trouble by doing so."

Tony heaved a sigh. "Okay, I won't mention the details. Just know that what they've been talking about doesn't sit well with me. And you know that I'm by no means Barnes' biggest fan."

Rhodey frowned, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "So, if it's bugging you then do something about it."

Tony blinked at the screen. "What?"

"Do something," Rhodey repeated slowly. "You don't like what's going on then change it."

"But," Tony said, sputtering a little. "I can't even begin to list all the problems that will come if I do something. The first of which is probably being arrested and sent to the newest model of the Raft."

Rhodey shrugged. "Then don't do anything."

Tony frowned at him. "Thanks, Rhodey, you're being super helpful here."

"I don't know what you want me to say, buddy," Rhodey said. "You aren't the type to sit back and let bad things happen."

"But you and I both know that in the past my actions have made things worse, not better," Tony argued, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the one that steadfastly agreed with the Accords. You know that we have to be put in check, and what you're suggesting I do definitely doesn't fly with the Accords."

"I can't make the decision for you, Tony," Rhodey said. "But I trust you, even if you don't trust yourself anymore. I'll stand by you whatever you decide." He paused. "I've got to sleep, Tony, you should too by the looks of it."

Tony nodded. "Right, yeah. Go to sleep, buddy."

Rhodey gave Tony a tired grin before reaching forward to sign off. The screen went black a moment later, leaving Tony staring at his reflection in the computer screen.

He swallowed hard. The time had come to make his choice. The right road or the left? Steve or Ross? Freedom or a life on the run?

"Fuck it," Tony muttered and stood up. "I'm doing something."

* * *

"We've been here for hours, Cap," Sam said quietly from his side of the cell. "We're nowhere closer to getting out."

Steve sat on his uncomfortable cot, elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. He glared down at his boots, mind going through different options for possible escapes. None of the plans were panning out.

He sighed angrily, nodding his agreement. "Yeah. They're more prepared for us this time around."

The two of them were hesitant to discuss the details of any of the various escape ideas because they weren't sure who was listening in, and with Tony Stark working with Ross they could be sure that some kind of recording and listening device was around.

"It's been hours," Steve repeated. Hours since he had seen Bucky, hours since Ross had managed to captured them and had been who knows what to his friend. He raked a heavy hand through his hair.

"It's going to be okay," Sam said, as if he could hear Steve's thoughts.

Steve looked up, meeting Sam's dark eyes. Sam was the definition of calm; complete confidence in their abilities to get out of this mess. Somehow.

Steve felt his forehead ease and a small smile slipped onto his face.

"Yeah," he finally agreed. "I know."

But despite Sam's reassuring words, a seed of doubt and worry gnawed at Steve's gut.

It wasn't just worry for Bucky, that _was_ where the majority of Steve's worry was going, but it was also worry for him and Sam. Even if they all did manage to make it out of Germany and away from Ross and Tony then where would they go?

Tony would never stop looking for Bucky, and when Tony set his mind to something it was only a matter of time before whatever it was happened.

Steve knew that he should have tried harder to make things right with Tony all those months ago, when it was just the Accords that they had been fighting about. Things had become decidedly more complicated when Tony had found out about Bucky killing his parents. Steve was partly responsible for Tony's reaction; if he had told Tony when he found out from Zola's computer then maybe he would have had the chance to explain things to Tony from Bucky's side.

Instead, Tony had found out in the worst possible way, from a man who wanted to destroy the Avengers from the inside out. And when Tony had given Bucky that agonizing and accusing glare, Bucky hadn't done anything; he made no move to explain things or defend himself.

Honestly, Steve knew that he couldn't really blame Tony for the way he had reacted—he did, but he knew he shouldn't.

Steve heaved another sigh, leaning back on his cot so that his back pressed against the cold, unforgiving wall.

This whole thing really boiled down to Tony. If Tony hadn't the one trying to find them, they probably would have been able to hide for much longer, if not forever, from Ross.

Steve couldn't help but blame himself for everything that had happened. He knew that Bucky would beg to differ, and probably Sam too, but they weren't the ones that failed Tony; Steve was.

"Contemplating the weight of the world?" a voice broke through Steve's thoughts.

He looked up, half expecting it to be Sam, even though the voice definitely wasn't Sam's.

Sam wasn't looking at Steve. He was standing at the entrance of their cell. Instead of a simple door, the entrance was a wall. The whole wall was a clear, but heavy, glass of some kind, similar to the one that had lined the cage they had put Bucky in the first time. The glass barred their escape gave them a shock whenever they touched it, something that Steve was sure Tony added.

Sam's arms were crossed tightly over his light blue shirt and he glared at the man on the other side of the glass.

Steve stood up, striding forward to the glass. He stopped inches from it, mouth pressed into an angry thin line as he stared at Tony on the other side of their prison.

"What do you want?" Steve demanded. He may blame himself for breaking their friendship apart, but he hadn't forgiven Tony for what he had tried to do to Bucky and what he was participating in with the Rosses.

Tony's mask of indifference cracked for a second and Steve could see the swirl of uncertainty underneath. The mask snapped back into place a quick second later.

"You know," Tony said, "just making the rounds. I'm checking in on all our prisoners."

Steve's breath froze in his chest. If Tony had already been to see Bucky then there was no telling what Tony had done to him. Bucky could already be dead. Tony didn't fuck around when it came down to it.

Steve reminded himself to calm down and take a breath. He filled his lungs with the recycled air, forcing himself to focus.

"What did you do?" Steve growled, half raising his clenched fist.

"Nothing," Tony said, eyeing Steve's white knuckles.

"Don't lie to me, Stark," Steve snapped. "If you hurt him—."

"Relax, tight-pants, you know as well as I, that Ross wouldn't let me do anything to your Bucky," Tony said, raising a hand that was meant to be calming, but didn't do anything to lessen Steve's fears. "I just talked to him."

"About what?" Sam put in for the first time. "What could the two of you possibly talk about?"

"He was telling me about his time with Hydra," Tony started conversationally. "Told me that he never had the choice with my parents." His voice hitched on the last word. Tony cleared his throat. "We discussed choices for a bit."

Steve's mouth curled. "Interesting. Did he mention the fact that he never ever had a choice? It wasn't just your parents."

Tony sighed. "Yes. Many times. But that's the excuse you both give, so it's not news to me."

Steve took half a step forward. "It's _not_ an excuse, Tony, it's the truth. What did you think he was doing all those years? Hydra had their hands on him and you're blaming _him_ because he keeps telling you the same thing? That he had no choice? Do you really think that Hydra would ever let someone had dangerous and important as him have a mind of his own?" Steve paused, glaring. "Then you're not as smart as you pretend to be."

Tony stared at Steve, hurt flickering in his eyes.

He took a small step towards Steve, glancing at the glass between them.

"They're watching you," Tony finally said, his voice soft. His eyes hovered over Steve's shoulder to a corner of the cell, presumably where the camera was. "And listening in."

Steve shrugged; he had guessed as much.

Tony's hand slipped into his slack's pocket and pulled out one of his Stark phones. He tapped at the screen, holding it up at an angle that Steve could see, but the camera couldn't. Or at least, Steve assumed that was why Tony was holding the phone in such a way.

Large letters stood boldly out on the phone: I'M HERE TO HELP.

Steve frowned, shaking his head.

"Why are you here, Stark," he finally said, repeating his earlier question.

Tony's fingers worked his screen while he said, "Like I said, Steve, I wanted to check in on you both. We were friends after all."

He held up the screen: WE'RE FRIENDS. FAMILY. YOU'RE MY CHOICE, ROGERS.

The words were short, but Steve got the jist of it; Tony was finally making a choice; he was choosing family.

Steve's eyes softened as the words sunk in. He didn't fully trust Tony's intentions, but the words held hope and that was all Steve asked for.

"We're not friends anymore," Steve said, but both he and Tony knew the words were devoid of their meaning. "Get out of here, Stark."

Tony held up his phone again: 10 SECONDS.

Steve jerked his chin at Sam, who was standing on his side, confused at the exchanged; he couldn't see Tony's phone. Steve motioned Sam to move away from the glass wall to the other side of the room.

"Leave, Tony," Steve called over his shoulder, keeping the ruse alive for as long as possible.

He saw Sam copying Steve and sat on his cot, leaning as far away as possible from the glass wall.

The countdown in Steve's head dwindled down to one and for a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then the glass wall gave a whining buzz as the electric current died. For a moment, Steve thought that was all Tony had achieved, but then the glass exploded.

A dull whining echoed in the air in the aftermath of the blast. Steve was frozen on his cot, arms raised over his head protectively. He sat up, glass falling from his form. His forearms stung from cuts that had come from the wave of glass and his ears rang with the echoing of the blast, but even he could hear the wailing of alarms overhead.

He got to his feet, staggering a little. He squinted over to Sam, who was doing the same. Giving Sam a nod, they both ran over to where the glass wall had previously been.

Tony was waiting for them, rocking on his heels. He was eyeing his watch, which Steve assumed was some form of Tony's Iron Man suit.

"Let's go, team," Tony said, as they stepped over the broken threshold. "We don't have much time. The whole building is going into lockdown, but lucky for you, I'm a genius and I have a way out."

Tony's old bravado was familiar and even comforting to Steve as they set off down the hall, red lights flashing above them.

"Where's Bucky?" Steve demanded as he jogged next to Tony. He knew there was a good chance that Tony would turn them right around and put them back into their cell for asking about Bucky, but Steve hoped that Tony had managed to find a way past Bucky's old life. Or at least, he hoped he had gathered the right idea from the stilted conversation they had just had.

Tony gave Steve a glance, eyes flashing a little. "Everett has him down below."

"We're going to get him, right?" Steve was prepared to stop then and there if Tony said no, and go get his friend himself.

"Yes, we're going to get him," Tony said. "And we're gonna need to hurry. Everett wants to use a book with—,"

"The Red Book?" Steve demanded, interrupting."He's going to use the Red Book?"

Tony frowned. "You know it?"

"It's what happened with Zemo last time we were here," Sam put in, huffing a little at their pace.

Steve gave his friend a concerned look, worried that Sam's lungs might still be bothering him.

Sam waved off Steve's unease, keeping pace with both of them.

"Great," Tony groaned, waving a hand as they ran. "Another little something the both of you kept to yourselves."

Steve frowned. "We weren't exactly on the same side last time either, Tony. Besides, you know about it now. Let's focus on the matter at hand. If Everett means to use the book, then we've got to hurry."

They rounded the corner, almost running into the group of armed agents.

The three of them skidded to a halt as the lead agent raised her gun.

"Stop! You need to—."

"I don't have time for this," Steve growled, barreling forward into the mess of agents, knocking them over as he went.

Tony and Sam shared a look before following their Captain into the fray.

* * *

Everett and Ross watched through pursed lips as the glass on the Captain and Wilson's cell broke and the two men followed Stark through the broken glass.

"I told you this would happen," Ross finally said as the video looped and started again. "I warned you what would happen if you left Stark in there."

Everett turned to the other man. "Yes, well, you were right and I was wrong. Is that what you wanted to hear? Because we don't have time for this. We need to get them back into custody and we need to do it now."

Everett's eyes drifted from the loop of the Captain's escape to the real time footage of Barnes sitting silently in his cage.

He looked down to the Red Book that he had been carrying around since the realization that Barnes might not cooperate with him.

"I think it's time we tested this book," Everett said, holding it up. "It's time to see how loyal Barnes can be after we speak the words."

Ross frowned. "You want to send him to bring Captain Rogers back in?"

"I do," Everett said confidently. "It's the ultimate test for Barnes. He only cares about Rogers; if he brings Rogers in on my command, then I'll know that he is truly loyal to me."

Ross looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes at the dramatic words, but he didn't argue with Everett. They didn't even know if using the book on Barnes would work, they only had it on the say so of the notes in the book and from Grekov and Zemo. Making Barnes go after Rogers was cruel even for them, but it would show how well the book worked.

"You'd better hurry," Ross said mildly. "You've got to know that Rogers is on his way to get Barnes out of there. You don't want to be there when he shows up."

* * *

Bucky looked up when the door opened and the lights turned back on. He crushed the faint hope that maybe it was Steve coming through the doors. But it wasn't.

It was the small man in the grey suit again. Everett something.

The man strode forward, his step heavy with purpose. A small smile was on his lips, and he held something in his hands.

"I haven't changed my mind," Bucky called out. "You've wasted a trip down here."

"I haven't wasted anything," Everett said, coming to a stop at Bucky's cage. He raised the item in his hands so that Bucky could get a good look at it.

Bucky's mouth dried and the air in his lungs froze at the sight of the Red Book. He looked frantically from the book to Everett.

"Don't," he said, jerking forward against his restraints. "Please don't. You don't know what will happen if you use the words. I could kill you and everyone else in this building."

Everett raised his eyebrows at that. "Everyone? Impressive, even for you."

"Please," Bucky's voice dropped, pleading with the other man. "Don't do this."

Everett flipped open the book, thumbing through it until he found the correct pages. He glanced up from the yellowing pages to Bucky.

"You had your chance, Soldier, you chose this. Remember that. _You_ chose this."

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, panic beginning to rise, along with resignation for what was about to happen. "And you remember that you're the one that set me loose. _You_ remember that."

Everett's hand paused on the page, spending all of two seconds contemplating what could happen if he lost control of the Winter Soldier. He dismissed it quickly, clearly thinking that if Hydra managed to control the Soldier for years then he could be able to do the same.

He was wrong.

The only reason Hydra was able to control the Soldier for so long was because they had more than just the words—the words came later anyway, they had the machines that could turn Buck's brain inside out so that it was blank and ready to be imprinted on.

They forced their ideals on him for so long, that even before they brainwashed him after some memory leaked through, he believed everything that Hydra stood for.

It had taken Steve and his utter belief in Bucky's humanity that broke through Hydra's teachings. Bucky wasn't sure he would have been able to do it on his own.

And Everett believed he could do the same thing that Hydra had achieved after uttering the words once?

"Nothing more to say, Soldier?" Everett taunted, holding the book up.

Bucky mutely shook his head. Everett would soon see, and actions spoke louder than words.

Bucky knew that he couldn't resist the words, but that didn't stop him from tensing and pulling against his restraints as Everett opened his mouth to begin.

"желание," Everett said, his mouth working around the word. _Longing._

The word drilled into Bucky's mind, bringing images to the forefront of his mind.

" _Take the weapon, Soldat. Kill him."_

_The Soldier plucked the pistol up from the table, cocked it and brought it up to the terrified man's face._

" _He's longs to live, Soldat. Take it away from him."_

_The Soldier blinked once before squeezing the trigger. The man's head snapped back, blood spurting from the bullet hole._

_A hand was placed against the back of his neck._

" _Good work, Soldat, good work."_

"Ржaвый." _Rusted._

Bucky's head began to pound. He shoved his head back against the headrest of his chair, as if he could beat the words from his mind.

_The knife entered his shoulder, and the Soldier knew that he should feel the pain, but he didn't. The knife was only a vague distraction from his mission._

_His mission's face had been triumphant for a moment, thinking that perhaps the large K-BAR would be able to slow the Soldier down, but the mission's face fell as the Soldier merely reached up to rip the knife away from his shoulder._

_He felt the hot blood flow down his shoulder, soaking the black leather of his jacket. The coppery, rusty smell of blood reached his nose, but he ignored it._

_His mission stumbled away, realizing that his only hope was to run away. But it was useless. The Soldier could not be stopped._

"Семнадцать," Everett's voice was almost gleeful against Bucky's ears. _Seventeen._

"Stop," Bucky tried again. The words felt heavy on his tongue, and Bucky knew that he was running out of time.

" _Good morning, Soldat. Today is your seventeenth mission. Get up."_

_The command prodded at the Soldier to sit up. He sneered at his own weakness as a dizziness almost overwhelmed him for a moment._

_Both hands were braced against the hard cot beneath him (he couldn't remember getting there, but he couldn't remember a lot of things so it didn't bother him)._

_The Soldier stood up, boots pressing against the cold tiles. He stood at attention, knowing that he soon he would be given his mission by his handler._

" _Come with me, Soldat."_

_The Soldier obediently fell into step, following his handler away from the room._

"Рассвет." _Daybreak_.

A scream was tearing from Bucky's throat; he wasn't sure when it had started, but it seemed to go on and on.

He strained against the metal that coiled around his chest and arms, trying to break free from them, but they were better than before and they weren't budging under his pressure.

_The Soldier blinked against the morning light from his position up high. He had not been given his dark tinted goggles for this assignment. Why, he wasn't sure, but knew better to ask._

_He lay on his stomach, rifle pressed tightly against his shoulder. His head was cocked to the side so that he could look down the scope._

_He watched as his mission walked from his car to the building. The mission was talking on a phone and held a bag in his other hand, unaware that he was speaking his last because a second later, the Soldier's finger tightened around the trigger and he breathed out, firing the weapon._

"Печь." _Furnace._

The words were clumsily spoken, by who, Bucky didn't know anymore.

His restraints were beginning to give, but not fast enough.

_The other agents had been told to leave the Soldier alone; they were simply there as backup for him. They were not his handlers and they were not to be talked to._

_The Soldier knew all this, but he still listened as they talked among themselves in the back of the truck._

_The back of the truck seemed small with so many men inside and it was slowly becoming hotter as more time went on._

_The truck went over a hole in the road and almost as one the men in the back rose and fell back into their seats._

_One of the agent's voices rose of the dull roar of the engine._

" _This thing is a fucking furnace. They've gotta install air conditioning or something."_

" _You've got easy, Willis, do you see...?"_

" _Shut up! Don't look at him."_

_The Soldier's face was impassive underneath the mask that covered his mouth and neck, but he could feel their hesitant eyes on him. He didn't care, of course. Their curiosity was to be expected. It was their first time working with him and if they did well, then it wouldn't be their last._

"Девять." _Nine._

Bucky's metal arm ripped free, the bands that circled it falling away to his feet. From there it was a simple matter of using his metal arm to start tearing at the remaining restraints.

" _Tell me," the Soldier's voice held no emotion. He stood over the man, twirling a knife in one hand. The twirls of the knife held no satisfaction for the Soldier, he only used it as a form of intimidation._

_The man sat at a wooden table. Both hands were splayed against the wood, tied at the wrists. The man glared up at the Soldier, not betraying the fear that glinted in his dark eyes._

" _Tell me," the Soldier commanded again._

" _Go to Hell."_

_The twirling of his knife stopped and the Soldier reached down, pressing his metal hand against the top of the man's right hand to hold it in place._

_With the knife in his other hand, the Soldier reached down digging the tip of the knife into the man's forefinger. Blood welled up, oozing from the wound._

_The man gave a small gasp, but no other sound of pain came from him._

_Under his mask, the Soldier's lips twitched. He pushed harder, feeling the knife dig into the bone of the finger._

_A yell came from the man, but he stopped it quickly._

_With one last thrust, the Soldier pushed the knife through the finger, separating it from the hand._

_He leaned close to the man, who had given up all pretense of calm and was yelling in pain._

_The Solider didn't speak often, but he knew that it was required in this instance. "Tell me," he paused. "You have nine more chances to give me the correct information."_

"добросердечный." _Benign._

Bucky knew that the words were being spoken quickly now, but it felt like years passed between each word.

He was now free of his restraints, but the glass still stood in his way.

_A cool had was brushing against his forehead, brushing his dark strands out of his face._

_Sweat was drying on the Soldier's face, and his chest heaved._

" _Calm yourself, Soldat," the voice was soft, kind even. "It is all over now."_

_What was over?_

_The hand continued brushing at his hair, doing little to calm his raging breathing._

" _It has to be done," the voice continued. "You remember too much, too often."_

_What had he remembered?_

" _He is gone now," the voice said quietly. "The blond man who haunts your mind is gone."_

_Who was gone?_

_Unbidden a name entered the edges of his head: Steve. But it disappeared just as quickly._

"возвращение на родину." The words were harsh. As if the speaker wasn't sure if he would be able to finish. _Homecoming._

Bucky was trying to make sure that he didn't. He pounded his metal fist against the glass, causing a spider web of cracks to appear.

_Bucky was fading in and out of consciousness, a red hot pain was searing his arm and shoulder. That pain outweighed the pain that racked his whole body. The fall had broken bones, Bucky knew that much, but he couldn't tell how bad the damage was._

_A round face hovered over his. Bucky knew that face, but he couldn't place it. He blinked rapidly into the glare of lights._

" _Sergeant Barnes," the man said, delight lacing his tone. "You've come back to me."_

_Bucky twisted in the chair, knowing without a doubt, that he needed to leave._

" _Lie still, Sergeant, it'll be over soon. Now that we've been reunited, I can continue my work."_

"Один." The voice was hoarse now, grating at Bucky's ears. _One._

With a yell, Bucky continued to bash his fist against the cracking glass, but he knew that it was no good.

_A gun was pressed to his head and a man was screaming in the Soldier's ear._

_Death didn't scare the Soldier, but failure to complete the mission did put a twinge of fear into his chest._

_His handlers didn't allow failure. He had only one chance, and if he failed, he wasn't sure what would happen. He had never failed before._

_And he wouldn't now._

_Twisting, the Soldier jerked around, knocking the gun away from his head._

_The gun went off, the bullet whizzing by._

_For a moment, there was a struggle for control over the pistol, but the Soldier's metal hand quickly overcame the man's weak hand._

_With the gun now in his possession, the Soldier easily finished his mission, watching as the man's blood pooled around his head._

"грузовой вагон." _Freight car._

Bucky screamed again. This time in frustration. The glass was too thick; he couldn't get out in time. But that didn't stop him from trying and he continued to strike the glass with both fists, ignoring the pain that burned at his flesh hand.

_The wind whistled past him, causing his hair to whip into his face._

_His fingers were tight on the metal bar that was all that held him from the long fall. With his other hand, he reached out, reached for the hand that stretched out to save him._

_But he could feel the metal bar starting to give under his hand; it couldn't hold his weight._

_For a brief moment, he thought that he might reach the hand, but then the metal bar let loose and he fell away, a scream ripping from his throat. The scream wasn't for himself, yes he was scared, but he was more scared of what would happen to those he left behind._

_It was for Ste—the ground met his body and the lights went out._

The words had stopped and he stood at the shattered glass, seconds too late.

He stared ahead at his handler, who stared back with wide eyes as if he couldn't believe that he had actually succeeded.

"готовы соблюдать," the Soldier's voice was rough, but the words were familiar on his lips. _Ready to comply._

His handler didn't respond right away, still staring at the Soldier. Frowning faintly, the Soldier repeated the words, "готовы соблюдать." _Ready to comply._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I was actually super pleased with this chapter. Well, at least the end. I really liked writing the end. Hopefully, you all liked it too!  
> At this point, I'm not even trying to find different songs to steal lyrics from. For those of you who don't know, the chapter's title is from another twenty one pilots song. I just love them so much, guys!  
> Thanks for the kudos and the comment from mynameisbuckybarnes! I really appreciate them!


	8. I Think I Lost My Halo

Tony had to admit that this was the best he had felt in close to nine months. Sure he was being chased by CIA agents and if they were caught even the famous Tony Stark probably wouldn't be able to talk his way out of it.

But, all of that didn't matter because the Avengers were starting to mend. Steve was running beside him, not away from him. And that was a very good thing.

"How much farther do we need to go?" Sam asked from Steve's side.

Tony spared a quick glance over at the other man, slightly concerned at the other man's sweat sheened face.

Sam caught the look and he impatiently waved a hand. "I'm good. Just a little run in with some Hydra gas."

"We've got another two levels," Tony answered, accepting Sam's explanation.

"Well, that sucks," Sam said resignedly. They had already burned through two group of CIA agents sent by Everett to stop them.

Everett had to know that it would take more than a handful of highly trained agents to stop Captain America from getting to his friend. As much as Tony wanted to say so, Everett wasn't stupid; he had to have more of plan that involved more than just sending his agents to try and stop the three Avengers.

"Keep moving," Steve said grimly from the middle of them. "We don't have much time."

Tony didn't bother correcting Steve's statement to: Bucky doesn't have much time, because they all knew that.

Tony knew that Everett planned to use the magic words on Barnes, and that was something that he even didn't want. He kept insisting that it was because no one wanted the cold blooded assassin back and running around, or that he was doing this for Steve. It definitely wasn't because he felt a hint of sympathy towards the other man.

"We've got agents at our twelve," Sam muttered out as they rounded what seemed like the fiftieth corner.

As one, they slowed to an easy jog, not stopping, but not barreling in head first either.

"Halt!" The agent at the head of the group, held up a hand, jabbing it in their direction. His voice was tinged with a faint German accent, which struck Tony as odd, but he was more concerned with the multiple guns that were pointed at them. That was new; the other agents had tried nonlethal force first.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve grunted, frustration clear in his voice.

"I know," Tony agreed, as the three of them eyed the group of agents.

The agents were dressed in black tactical gear, complete with rifles and helmets that covered most of their faces.

He knew that Ross would have ordered the agents to bring them in alive; they were too valuable to kill and too dangerous to have running around, which was why the weapons were a surprise.

Steve and Sam didn't have any weapons, but Steve never had used a weapon before and Sam could hold his own in a fight.

Tony himself had learned the basics of hand to hand combat after they had become the Avengers, but out of all of them he was the weak link when it came to it. But that didn't actually matter because he actually had his suit on hand; he wouldn't have busted Steve and Sam out if he didn't plan for the evitable fight that would ensue.

"All this for us?" Sam said from Steve's side.

Tony shrugged. "What can I say, Ross needs me—us." The jokes slid easily from his mouth, though his heart pounded in his chest; adrenaline shooting into his limbs.

The lead agent's eyebrows drew down as he eyed the group of three men in front of him. He took a slow step back, as if he hadn't expected this.

"It is Captain America," he said over his shoulder to the rest of the men. The words were incredulous.

Steve exchanged a confused look with Tony; the men should've already known who he was. He was the reason, after all, that they were tramping through the bases' halls.

Anxiety curled in Tony's stomach; something was wrong about this whole situation.

"Guys, I think we should find another way," he said.

The alarms wailed in agreement overhead.

Without speaking, they carefully began to back up; they all knew that they could take a handful of agents, but something was different about these men.

The lead agent countered their step with a forward one of his own, dark eyes glinting behind his mask. His rifle was up, tucked tight against his shoulder.

"You are Captain America," he said, jabbing his rifle's barrel in Steve's direction. "You took something from us." He paused. "We've come to reclaim our property."

Tony frowned. "Excuse me? What?" He looked over to Steve, who had frozen in place. Tony was confused about the hell was going on, but Steve's eyes were crackling with fire and his lips were bared into a snarl. From his reaction Steve clearly understood what the agent was talking about.

"I'm lost here," Tony said, still carefully backing up.

But when Steve stopped, Sam had stopped too, leaving Tony backing up by himself. Both of them had almost identical glares on their faces as they stared down the agents.

"He's no one's property," Steve growled, stepping forward.

Tony made a grab for the back of Steve's formfitting shirt, but missed.

"Steve, he's got a gun," Tony tried. He didn't actually think the agent would use it, but who knew what Everett had ordered them to do at this point.

Steve ignored Tony, standing a few feet from the barrel of the rifle, scowling at the agents. Tony didn't understand why Steve would direct such anger at CIA agents who were just doing their job.

And that was when Tony realized something very important.

"You're not CIA," he said, stepping forward, next to Steve. His eyes narrowed, taking in the agent's uniforms more clearly.

The lead agent gave a short laugh, shaking his head, as if this should have been obvious from the start.

"No, they're not," Steve said. "They're Hydra." His attention was still on the group of men, who all tensed at Steve's words, but they stood their ground, keeping their weapons raised. Their guns didn't seem to faze Steve; he didn't look like he was planning on moving anytime soon. "How did you get in?"

He meant the CIA base of course. Not only was it a freaking CIA base, but it was also on lockdown; no one in or out.

"Do you really think that matters right now, Cap?" Tony muttered from Steve's side.

He had only ever helped take down a Hydra base once, and that had been a joke; the team easily defeated them. But from what Steve had told him, he knew that Hydra themselves weren't a joke; they were a very serious and dangerous organization that never seemed to die no matter how many times Steve and the others beat them down.

"You're not the only one that has a friend on the inside," the agent said, raising his gun towards Steve's head. "Like I said, we've come to take our Soldier back. He belongs to us."

Steve's lips curled, and Tony knew that the time for talking was past.

In one fluid movement, Tony jabbed a button on his wristwatch, watching as the watch expanded over his arm, traveling to his chest and legs, covering them with red and gold metal.

It a matter of seconds, he was covered head to toe in one of his Iron Man suits.

This seemed to give the Hydra men pause for a brief moment, but it wasn't long before the shooting started.

Tony shoved Steve and Sam out of the way, taking the brunt of the bullets; they only bounced off his suit anyway.

Before the Hydra agents could do anything else, Steve had roared past Tony, body slamming the lead agent. As one, Steve and the lead agent knocked down two agents who didn't get out of the way fast enough, leaving two agents for Sam and three for Tony.

Tony raised his palm out, blasting two of the agents; the last one managed to side step the light.

From the corner of his helmet, Tony could see Sam wrestling the gun out of one of his agents' hands, while keeping out of the way of the remaining agent's gun.

Tony turned his attention back to his fight. Two of the guys were down, clothes smoking slightly from Tony's initial blast. The last agent was shooting Tony with his pistol, while his other hand grabbed at his belt, pulling out a grenade.

"Shit," Tony snapped out, as the agent pulled the pin and threw it towards Sam and the other men. Clearly, Tony's agent didn't have any qualms about killing his own men. The agent watched it go, giving Tony a feral grin before turning on his heel and booking it down the hall.

Tony couldn't go after the agent _and_ stop the grenade. He had to make a quick choice. Obviously, he chose to stop the grenade.

With the help of his boot thrusters, Tony caught the heavy grenade midair, tossing it down the hall, back the way they had come. He knew there were no offices down that way, so the blast wouldn't kill anyone.

Seconds later, it went off, shaking the hall and pouring smoke down towards them.

"Enough of this," Tony muttered, grabbing one of Sam's agents by the scruff of his neck. He shook him roughly, trying to loosen the gun in his hands. When that didn't work and before the agent could start shooting, Tony threw him into the wall, knocking him unconscious.

By that time, Sam had gotten the gun away from the other Hydra agent, who then whipped out a knife, but he only got a bullet in his head for his trouble.

Tony's helmet visor slid back, exposing his skin to the smoke filled air.

Both Tony and Sam were panting slightly as they gave each other appraising looks.

"Nice work," Tony said. The two of them had never really fought together before, but Sam didn't disappoint.

The sound of bone snapping caught their attention and as one they turned to Steve.

Two agents were down, sprawled in unnatural angles to Steve's side. The lead agent was pinned underneath Steve's large form, helmet off and face painted red with blood.

Steve's bloody fist was raised and a dark light glinted in his eyes, but his face was completely calm.

"Steve!" Tony shouted, gut twisting at the sight of Steve and his bloody hands. "Stop, he's had enough."

Steve tossed a look over his shoulder and for a moment it looked like he was going to ignore Tony, but then he took in Sam and Tony's stricken faces and he stopped.

"Dammit," Steve muttered, dropping his loosened fist and getting up. He toed the lead agent with his boot.

The agent groaned and the three of them instantly sagged in relief; Steve hadn't killed him.

"I almost killed him," Steve said after a moment of staring down at the bleeding agent.

"He was trying to kill us," Tony pointed out. "You were defending us."

Steve's head lolled to the side to look at Tony. "No, I wasn't."

No, he wasn't, Tony silently agreed.

"But you didn't kill him," Sam said. He waited a beat and then said, "We've gotta move."

Before any of them could agree, a strangled scream echoed down the hall. They gave each other a worried look before taking off down the hall.

* * *

His handler's orders were pounding through the Soldier's head, insistent and demanding.

_Find Rogers and the others. Bring them in unharmed._

He hadn't been given a weapon or any of his normal gear, but the Soldier didn't question his handler's choices; it wasn't his place to ask.

However, he wasn't worried that he couldn't complete the mission; his strong, metal arm would do the job just fine.

His handler had sent him up the elevator and told him to search for Rogers in the nearby halls and rooms. So the Soldier did as he was told and stalked through the halls, looking for his mission.

_Find Rogers and the others. Bring them in unharmed._

The "unharmed" part of his orders were unusual, but again, the Soldier didn't question it. It would just be a little harder than usual to bring them in. He ran through possibilities of how he could achieve the assignment.

Knocking them unconscious was preferable and most likely the easiest option. The Soldier nodded to himself; he would knock Rogers out first and then take the others.

A few people had been in the rooms near the elevator, but the Soldier had deemed them no threat. Most of them had blanched when they caught sight of him and screamed before cowering in place.

The Soldier sneered at their weakness, but none of his true feelings showed on his face; he had been trained to show nothing, so his face remained blank.

_Find Rogers and the others. Bring them in unharmed._

The Soldier winced slightly as the words reared up again in his head. It had been some time since his last mission, and he had yet to remember the feeling of orders pounding in his head.

Leaving the last of the rooms, the Soldier went to out to the hall. His boots made no sound against the tiles as he walked, listening for Rogers.

He didn't have to listen for long; the sound of bullets hitting metal echoed their way to him. The Soldier picked up his pace slightly, sure that his mission had something to do with the sound.

A few moments later, the hall vibrated as a small explosion went off.

Grenade: too far away to be a threat to him.

The Soldier continued down the hall.

Moments later, a figure bounded around the corner, head down and legs pumping.

The Soldier paused, eyeing the figure. He noted the tactical gear and weapon in hand. Extra ammo clips and grenades were hung on his belt, bouncing gently as he ran.

Man, a soldier: a possible threat.

The Soldier stopped, waiting for the man to come to him. Foolishly, the man wasn't looking ahead as he ran and didn't see the Soldier until he was a few feet away.

The man skidded to a halt, mouth opening in surprise.

"Soldier?" he asked in German.

The words translated easily even though the Soldier had been woken to Russian and then given his mission in English.

"Soldier," the man continued, confidence strengthening his words. "We've come to take you home." He stepped closer. "Come with me. Soldier, acknowledge."

"Denied," the Soldier replied in German, coming forward. He raised his metal hand.

Panic flickered in the man's eyes and he took a hesitant step away.

"I am Hydra," the man tried again. "I am your handler. Acknowledge!"

The Soldier shook his head. "Denied. You are not my handler."

Another step forward and he was inches from the now frozen man, whose eyes shone with the fatality of his mistake.

The Soldier reached forward, his metal hand closing around the man's neck. The man let out a scream, grating at the Soldier's ears.

The Soldier's fingers tightened around the man's soft neck, smothering the scream that was still coming from him.

He felt the bones of the man's neck crack under the pressure of his hand. The man's eyes widened as he felt it too. His struggles doubled, hands clawing at the Soldier's metal hand. The Soldier raised the man from the ground, so that the man's feet dangled over the tiles.

Then the Soldier tightened his grip, pulling slightly to the side. The man's neck snapped and he went limp in the Soldier's hand.

Seconds later, the Soldier's sharp ears caught the sound of metal and booted feet against the floor.

Jerking his head up, the Soldier eyed the new threat. Cocking his head to the side, the Soldier realized that it wasn't just a threat. It was his mission.

* * *

Steve couldn't keep the horrified look off his face as he stared at Bucky's blank face.

Bucky's lips tightened a little at the sight of them, but Steve didn't know what that meant in Winter Soldier speak.

"That's the one that got away from me," Tony murmured from Steve's side. He nodded at the lifeless body that Bucky held in his hand.

Steve spared a quick second to be impressed with Tony's calm front at facing his parents' killer again. Because there was no doubt that this man truly was the one who killed Maria and Howard Stark. There was no emotion on Bucky's face, nothing to hint at the man he had once been.

Bucky eyed the body in his hand, dropping it to the ground. The man crumbled at his feet in a boneless heap. He then turned his attention to Steve, giving Sam and Tony a quick look, as if he was accessing their capabilities.

Steve held out a hand, palm up.

"Bucky, it's me."

Bucky's step paused. "Steven Grant Rogers."

Relief flooded Steve; Bucky remembered him.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy. What happened to you? Are you okay?"

Bucky's eyebrows drew together for a moment.

"I'm functioning," he said, continuing forward again.

"Steve," Sam warned from behind him. "I don't think he's okay."

Steve ignored Sam for a second, fighting against the same doubts that churned in his stomach.

"Bucky, stop," he tried again, hand still out.

"Find Rogers and the others. Bring them in unharmed," the words were silted as if Bucky was reciting them.

"That's not a good sign," Sam muttered.

Steve silently agreed with him, but he kept his focus on his newly activated friend.

"Bucky, you've got to break through it," Steve said. "You can do it."

Bucky didn't respond. He only continued forward, metal hand out and eyes glinting dangerously.

"Steve, get away from him," Tony said.

Steve could hear Tony powering up his thrusters, ready to blast Bucky if he needed to.

"Don't hurt him," Steve called over his shoulder.

"If it's down to you and him, I'm choosing you," Tony snapped.

"It won't come down to it," Steve insisted, keeping his eyes glued on Bucky, who was still stalking forward.

"Bucky," Steve said, but that was as far as he got.

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve's outstretched hand. He jerked Steve forward, twisting him and wrenching Steve's arm around behind Steve's back.

Both Sam and Tony started forward, but Steve bit out, "Stop. I can handle this."

Bucky's grip was tight on his wrist, pinning it against Steve's back. Steve took a shallow breath, before kicking back with his foot. He hit Bucky's knee, buckling it, and without Bucky's say so, his grip on Steve's wrist loosened just enough so that Steve could twist out. Bucky's hand was still around Steve's wrist, but now they were standing face to face, connected by their hands.

Bucky tried to pull Steve forward again, but Steve was ready for it this time. He pushed back against Bucky's deadly embrace, giving himself space to wrench his hand free from Bucky. Just as quickly, he threw a punch at Bucky, hoping to knock him out before anyone got seriously hurt.

The punch snapped Bucky's head to the side, but it didn't drop him.

Bucky retaliated with a heavy punch of his own. The blow caused Steve's head to jerk back, blood exploding from his nose.

The flow of hot blood streamed down into Steve's mouth. He licked at his lips and wiped a hand across his nose in the brief moment before Bucky came at him again.

Bucky threw out his booted foot, kicking Steve back and knocking him into the opposite wall.

The air in Steve's lungs left in a whoosh as his back connected with the wall, leaving a Steve shaped dent behind.

He slid down to the ground, coughing, but getting to his feet just as quickly.

Bucky was already standing over him with his metal hand stretched out, grasping at Steve's neck. He pulled Steve up by his neck, tightening his grip.

Steve gasped, fingers clawing at the unyielding metal fingers that was slowly squeezing the breath from him.

"Bucky, stop," Steve managed to choke out, catching Bucky's cold blue eyes with his own.

Bucky flinched at the sound of his name, the first sign that maybe Steve was finally breaking through, but the mask of the Winter Soldier fell back into place a mere second later.

"You're my mission," Bucky snapped, fingers tightening.

"This again?" Steve muttered through clenched teeth.

He pulled his knees up, kicking both feet out against Bucky's chest.

Bucky staggered back, pulling Steve with him by his neck, his grip remaining tight this time.

Bucky regained his balance quickly, lifting Steve up from the floor like he had done with the other unfortunate Hydra agent.

Steve's head began to buzz and he struggled to get enough air into his lungs.

From the corner of his wide eyes, he saw Tony shake his head, visor coming down. Steve weakly tried to wave the other man off, but if Tony saw him he didn't acknowledge it.

Tony lifted a palm up, the white circle in his hand glowing.

"Enough of this," Tony said, his metallic voice coming through his helmet.

Sam took a hesitant step forward, as if he was thinking about stopping Tony, but one look at Steve's bluing face and Sam backed off.

Steve tried to glare at both of them, but it wasn't easy when he was running out of air. He felt his limbs growing heavy and he couldn't do much more than wiggle gently in Bucky's grip.

Then the crushing pressure was gone and Steve fell heavily to the ground. He sucked in a lungful of air, trying to push himself to a sitting position.

"Bucky," he croaked.

His friend had been blasted into a wall, cracking the plaster and wood with his back. Bucky was on the floor with his back pressed against the fractured wall and his head slumped forward to his chest.

He wasn't unconscious, but Bucky was definitely dazed. He was groggily trying to raise his head and stand up, but it wasn't working very well.

Tony stood over him, face emotionless behind his mask, both hands were out ready to blast Bucky if he tried to get back up, or maybe he was going to shoot him anyway.

Steve stood up, standing on weak legs. He stumbled forward, hand outstretched.

"Tony," Steve said, throat burning from Bucky's recent attempt to kill him. "Don't shoot him again."

Tony's head swiveled to look at Steve with glowing blue and white eyes. He didn't say anything, which only added fuel to Steve's worry that he might lose Bucky to Tony right after they had rescued him from Ross.

"Tony," Steve warned again. "Stop."

After a moment, Tony shook his head. "I wasn't going to do anything. Just making sure he stays down."

Steve stepped forward, rubbing his neck with one hand. He looked down at his friend, who blinked blearily up at him.

Bucky's throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

"готовы соблюдать," Bucky said softly, frowning as he did so.

Steve mirrored the look, not understanding the language.

"He said," Tony said, as FRIDAY translated in his helmet. "Ready to comply."

Steve's mouth worked as he pounded down the anger at Everett or whoever it was that had done this to Bucky again.

"Knock him out," Steve commanded suddenly. "Last time, after we went over in the helicopter, he was knocked out and then when he came to, he was back to normal."

Tony hesitated only for a moment before he stooped down, whacking his curled fist into the side of Bucky's head.

Bucky's head jerked to the side, blood streaming from the split skin on his temple.

Steve inhaled sharply, ready to come to his friend's aid if Tony decided to do it again, but there was no need. Bucky's form stilled, his hair splaying out over his face and covering the wound from Tony's fist.

Tony's visor went back and he looked at Steve warily, as if he was expecting Steve to tell him off for the blow.

But Steve didn't. He didn't say anything; he wasn't going to yell at Tony for doing what he had asked, but he wasn't going to thank him either.

Steve crouched down, looking over his shoulder to Sam. He nodded at the hall.

"Keep an eye out."

Sam nodded, turning to face the way they had come. He had taken the time to snag a rifle from one of the Hydra agents they had left behind.

Steve turned his attention back to Bucky, gently brushing back the hair from Bucky's forehead. He winced as his fingers came away red. The blood had soaked into the strands of hair, traveling down them to Bucky's neck.

"Dammit," Steve murmured. "We've got to figure out a better way to break Bucky out of this."

"We have no way of knowing how to do that," Tony said from above Steve. "And we certainly don't have the time." He paused. "Speaking of time, we need to move. We have to get out of here before Everett realizes his master plan didn't succeed."

Steve silently agreed. He stood up, reaching down to pull Bucky to a limp standing position against the wall. Steve then heaved Bucky's form over his back in a firefighter hold, letting Bucky's head and arms hang down his back.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

Everett's fingers tightened over the spine of the thin Red Book, staring at the blinking black and white screen that showed the destruction that Steve Rogers and the others left in their wake.

He was kicking himself for trusting Tony Stark; Ross had warned him, but they had both needed Stark's help in locating Barnes and the others. Yes, he didn't _have_ to give Stark the chance to talk to Barnes, but somehow Everett thought it might have been more than just that talk that made Stark turn on them.

Stark was loyal, annoyingly so. It had been a blow to him when Rogers had chosen Barnes over the Accords and the Avengers. Rogers was a still a friend, despite all that.

Everett figured that Rogers was most likely the main reason for Stark's betrayal. And he should have seen it coming; Ross evidently did.

"Sir?" Agent Locke said from his side.

He turned to acknowledge his agent, giving her a grim nod to continue.

"Permission to help with bringing Rogers back into custody?" Locke's mouth was set into a tight line and her eyes kept flickering to the line of screens that showed where Roger had taken care of the last group of their agents. That was the last thing they had managed to see before Stark must have done something and the screens had blinked before going into a loop.

They had no way of knowing where the damned Captain was and Everett was starting to think that perhaps sending Barnes after him had been a little rash. There was nothing to show for his efforts so far.

Everett eyed Locke, turning his gaze to where Anton Grekov sat behind her. He was not paying attention to Everett or Locke, staring instead at the tables in front of him that were almost bare expect for a few stray pieces of paper. He was very pointedly not listening in on their conversation.

Everett turned his attention back to Locke.

"Branson and Hardy are already out there?"

She nodded.

"Good. Go find them and bring me back Rogers. If you see Barnes wandering around, see if you can't send him back to me. I'm not sure how this all works," he vaguely held up the Red Book. "So use caution."

Everett jerked his chin at Grekov. "I'll keep an eye on him."

Locke readily agreed with the plan before turning on her heel to exit the room.

Everett gave Grekov a quick look, before eyeing the Red Book in his hand. Perhaps there was more that Grekov could tell them about it, more that Everett should know about what to expect with the Winter Soldier.

He walked the few steps forward, claiming the seat next to Grekov. The man in question looked up at the movement. He gave Everett a welcoming twitch of his lips.

"Tell me, Grekov," Everett started, "how long do the words work on Barnes?"

Grekov leaned forward with interest. "You used them then? And?"

Everett's eyes narrowed slightly. "It worked. Barnes responded as expected, but my concern is what happens when they wear off. I can't imagine that they'll last forever, otherwise this book wouldn't be so special."

Grekov's eyes briefly landed on the Red Book in Everett's hands, before turning back to the smaller man beside him.

"It always varied when we used it," he finally said after a moment of thought. "Sometimes it lasted for days, other times only for a few hours. The quickest it wore off was when the Soldat received some sort of blow to the head. It was almost like a restart button."

Everett frowned, rubbing a finger down the spine of the book. If knocking the Soldier out was all it took to snap Barnes out of it then he might have jumped into this too quickly. Rogers wouldn't ever kill his friend, instead he would go for the nonlethal move, which would mean attempting to knock Barnes out.

"You always had to be very specific with your orders for the Soldat," Grekov continued. "It's almost like he doesn't have a mind of his own when he's under the control of the Red Book." The words were quiet, almost musing.

He looked up to Everett, something glinting in his eyes.

Suddenly, for the first time, Everett wondered if he had made _any_ smart choices up to this point.

Everett leaned back, ready to stand up, but Grekov's hand shot forward, clapping a hand to Everett's shoulder to hold him in place.

Everett winced as he felt a stinging in his shoulder before the area immediately began to go numb.

Grekov leaned back in his chair, something gleaming in his hand. A self-satisfied smirk played on his lips.

Everett knew that he should be panicking at the rapid rate his body was going numb, but he wasn't. He knew he was going to die, but it didn't seem to matter. The poison was dulling his senses and perhaps his emotions too.

"What did you do to me?" the words were hard to work through his heavy lips.

Grekov shrugged. "Poison. I'm afraid it's all I managed to bring with me." He held up his silver wristwatch, indicating the method of the transportation of his weapon.

Everett slumped farther down in his chair, realizing that he had been incredibly stupid. He had brought in a former Hydra agent, thinking that the older man would be close to harmless. Grekov couldn't have known what he was being brought in for, but when they had started asking questions about the Red Book and the Winter Soldier, Grekov must have realized that they were working on retrieving said Soldier.

So Grekov had made himself useful and waited. He waited until he knew that Stark had managed to find and bring back Barnes, because that had been his ultimate goal. Bringing the Winter Soldier back into Hydra custody is what Grekov had wanted all along.

And Everett had given it to him on a silver platter. _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a bit rough. Remember how I said that I suck at writing fight scenes? Well, I wrote like three in this chapter and I'm not sure how they turned out. Also, my summer job is basically nannying, so I wrote all of this well taking care of kids. So it might be a little choppy.  
> I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I have no clue if any of the Russian is right. I got most of it off google and other places. Hopefully, it's okay.  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from alysha and maxiekat!


	9. My Past Has Tasted Bitter

They were fucked, plain and simple.

Steve hadn't been a fan of that type of language until he had met Bucky when they were kids. Bucky had introduced him to all kinds of new words, but even then he hadn't dared to utter them, especially not in front of his mother.

It wasn't until he had joined the Army that he had started using any type of foul language; it was hard to keep it clean when all your men were constantly spouting off the words in every other sentence. Out of all the Howling Commandos, Steve probably was the worst of the lot.

When Steve had gotten out of the ice, he had woken up in a world that, for some reason, thought that he blushed at the first sound of the word that start with an "F" and ended with "uck" (that rhymed with duck). Even his teammates had been under the impression that Steve had never heard swear words before. They were all very wrong, but he chose not to enlighten them.

So it was a bit of a surprise to Tony when Steve repeated the phrase, this time aloud. "We're fucked."

"Please, Captain, language," Tony managed to get out over the deafening sound of his disbelief.

Holding Bucky's limp body, Steve's lips tightened as he looked over to Tony and he said in his most polite voice, "Please, Tony, fuck off."

Steve wasn't in the mood for it, and by the way Tony's mouth snapped shut, the billionaire had received the message loud and clear.

"How do you figure?" Tony finally asked.

Steve shifted Bucky's weight. "We're running blindly down these halls in hopes that we'll find a way out. We've run into multiple groups of CIA agents and we just left a pile of Hydra agents behind. Clearly, Hydra knows that Bucky is here. I don't know how they know, but they do. Bucky is one of their most prized possessions." Steve's mouth curled over the word angrily. "They won't let him go without a fight."

"So what are you saying?" Sam asked from Steve's side.

"I'm saying that there's more than one group of Hydra agents walking around," Steve said. "It's only a matter of time before we run into another group of them."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked again, content to leave the leading to their Captain.

"We've got to find a way out of here before they find us, but that's a little hard when we've got the CIA chasing us too and the whole building on lockdown."

"I've got a fix for that," Tony put in. "The lockdown is child's play for me. I'll have us out of here in no time." He paused. "We just need to find an actual exit."

Which was easier said than done. Their frantic trek down to the lower levels to find Bucky had taken them from most exits. The exits that were actually around were small and easy to miss down dark halls. They were too easy to miss because they had been missing them this whole time, which pissed Steve off.

He hadn't been this angry in a long time. Funny that missed exits was something that sparked the growing anger in his chest.

"Hold up," Tony suddenly said, stopping abruptly. Steve and Sam slowed and turned around to face Tony.

"What?" Steve asked impatiently. "We don't have time to stop."

"Uh, for this, I think we do," Tony said. "We need to get the Red Book from Everett."

Steve stared at Tony for two seconds before slumping a little. "I can't believe I forgot about that." He moved forward to stand next to Tony, Sam trailing behind him.

"We don't _have_ to get it back," Sam said. "We were doing okay before without it."

"But we can't let them keep it," Steve insisted. "If they have it, they have a damned good reason to want to get Bucky back and if they find that they can't get him back how long do you think it would take them to sell it to the highest bidder. The highest bidder could be a lot harder to run from than the CIA and Ross."

Tony nodded his agreement. "We need to find it and get out of here."

Sam shrugged, ready to follow Steve wherever he decided.

"Who had it last?" Steve asked.

"Everett Ross," Tony said. "I know where he'll be too."

"Won't he be expecting us?" Sam asked.

Tony shook his head, turning to lead them towards Everett's location. "No, he'll have sent all his men to find us throughout the building. Whoever he has with him we'll be able to take care of easily."

"Okay," Steve said, lifting Bucky higher on his shoulder. "Let's get the book and _then_ get out of here."

* * *

Bucky slowly woke up, but kept his eyes closed. He felt strangely weightless, realizing that his arms where hanging over his head and his head was hanging upside down.

The realization that he was being held by someone shot adrenaline into his body and his eyes snapped open. He found that his nose was buried into a light grey t-shirt, and moving his eyes a little he saw the tiled floor moving beneath the man's feet.

He was being taken somewhere, probably on the orders of the small man in the grey suit, which meant the words had taken hold and Bucky had done who knows what.

With a low growl, Bucky exploded out of the arms of the man carrying him. The man's hands scrambled to hold on to him, but Bucky was too quick for him.

He landed on his feet facing his captor, but his legs gave out before he could find his footing and he crumbled to the ground in a heap of limb legs and arms.

His metal arm was unaffected by the return to consciousness, cold and unforgiving. Bucky snarled, throwing it out to fend off whoever stood over him. He knew that the grey man ideally wouldn't hurt him too badly, but Bucky didn't have the same qualms.

"Bucky, calm down, calm down!" the voice finally broke through the haze of panic that covered Bucky.

He froze for a moment before he fell forward onto all fours, curling his metal hand into a fist and pressing it against the tiles. He shoved off with both hands, pushing himself into a crouched position. His arms and legs were quickly coming back to life now and when they did, the grey man was going to regret triggering Bucky.

He stilled when he finally caught sight of who was standing over him. Instant relief filled Bucky's body and he sat back on his heels, looking up at the man. With his chest still heaving from his momentary panic, Bucky managed a weak, but relieved smile. "Steve."

"Yeah, it's me, buddy," Steve said, crouching down so that he was eyelevel with Bucky. "Are you okay?" He reached a hesitant hand towards Bucky's temple, and at Bucky's short nod, he gingerly touched a tender spot under his hairline. Bucky allowed Steve a moment to feel the shallow wound before moving his head out of reach.

After a moment, Bucky mutely shook his head, answering Steve's question. No, he wasn't okay. Someone had forced their will on him again, and he had done...something, only he couldn't remember what because that's what the words did. They made it so he couldn't remember much of anything when he came out of the haze of orders. He eventually remembered (he remembered all of his missions), but it took days, sometimes months for it to break through and those were just as painful.

"Did I...?" Bucky asked roughly, looking at Steve's chest, rather than his sympathetic eyes.

"No," Steve said immediately. "You didn't hurt us."

Us?

Bucky looked up, seeing Sam to Steve's right. Sam gave Bucky a hesitant, but genuine smile, surprising him.

"Glad you're back with us," Sam said.

His eyes traveled from Sam back to Steve and then to the red and gold metal covered man.

Bucky scrambled backwards; how could he have missed seeing Tony Stark standing there in all his glory?

"Stark," Bucky spat out, trying to stand again.

Tony held up a hand. "I'm not here for you, Rapunzel." He paused, head tilting to the side. "I mean, I guess I technically am, but that's only because Steve wouldn't leave you behind."

Bucky eyes narrowed, slowly heaving himself up to a hunched standing position. Steve mirrored the action, moving closer to Bucky to give him a hand if it was needed.

Bucky's eyes flicked to Steve's, silently asking whether or not to trust the man. After all, the last thing Bucky had known was Tony talking to him outside his glass cage. They had clearly been on opposite sides then. What could have changed in such a short amount of time? Unless it hadn't only been a few hours and Bucky had been out a lot longer than he originally thought.

Steve gave him a tiny nod, and Bucky accepted Tony's explanation with a small nod of his own; however, that didn't mean he was ready to have Tony watch his six.

Next to Bucky, Steve offered him a shoulder to lean on, but Bucky waved him away.

"I'm good."

"Are you sure...?" Sam started, but was silenced by a look from Bucky. He held up his hands in surrender.

"What are we doing?" Bucky asked, trying to figure out what state of controlled panic he should be in. "Do we need to move?"

"Yes," Steve said, waving Tony ahead to lead the way. "We're going to find Everett; he has the Red Book."

"Everett," Bucky said, finally remembering what his handler—the man had been called. "I owe him." He bared his teeth into a grim smile.

Steve's step stuttered slightly at the even words that threatened violence, but he continued after a moment.

"Me too," he agreed.

A dark smile played on Bucky's lips, as he pushed forward to march next to Steve, the two of them completely in sync with the other.

"Where did you say that he'll be?" Sam asked Tony.

"He's going to be in the security room, trying to oversee all of this. Lucky for us, I've put all the footage onto a loop so he won't see us coming."

"Good," Steve said. He curled his fingers into a loose fist at his side.

Bucky eyed his friend, glad that Steve was on his side. From the look that Tony was giving them, Bucky knew that Tony was happy that he was on Steve's side too. He knew that Tony had been a close friend of Steve's, even if they didn't always get along, and that it had been hard to for Steve to put Bucky before the rest of the Avengers.

Bucky also knew that no matter what, Steve would always choose him. Bucky wasn't sure how he felt about that, but then he thought about how when it came down to it, he would always choose Steve too.

Even from before he became the Winter Soldier, Steve was his number one priority during the war. Obviously, Steve didn't actually need Bucky to protect him like had once; their dynamic had changed, but their friendship and loyalty to each other hadn't.

"What's our play?" Bucky asked after a moment.

"We find Everett, and get the Red Book," Steve replied, staring down the hall as his feet beat out his determination.

Bucky wasn't the only one to roll his eyes at Steve's straightforward plan of attack.

"Right," Bucky agreed after a moment. Steve was right; their plan didn't need to be a mess of complicated approaches. It could be as simple as beating up whoever got in their way.

Tony slowed, his metal boots clanking heavily against the floor. Following Steve's lead, Bucky stopped next to Tony.

"It's right over there." Tony's red finger pointed to the closed door, six feet away. "Everett should be in there."

"Why isn't he in the main control room?" Sam asked. "The one from when we were first taken?"

"Because he doesn't want anyone to know what's going on down in the basement," Steve said, his words a barely contained snarl. "He didn't want the rest of the base to see why he had brought Bucky in."

"Why _did_ he want you?" Sam asked Bucky, giving him a once over. "Tony didn't say."

"He wanted me to work for him," Bucky said easily. "He thinks that my talents would be wasted if he allowed the government to pack me away in some prison." The words were passive, but Bucky inwardly shivered. Everett may have been a self-proclaimed patriot, but with the power of the Winter Soldier at his hands there's no telling what he would eventually do. He may have had somewhat pure intentions, but after time he would realize that he could make Bucky do whatever he said. With that type of firepower at his fingertips, a greater man than Everett would've succumbed to using Bucky for his own personal use.

But that wouldn't happen. Not again. They weren't in the clear yet, but Steve was here with him this time, and Steve wouldn't let Everett control him again.

A small voice wormed its way into Bucky's skull, insisting that Steve couldn't save him from anything, after all, Steve was the one that let him be taken the first time.

Bucky firmly pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the matter at hand.

Steve and the others were trying to figure out how to best bust down the door and take Everett, arguing in low voices.

"I'll go in first," Bucky said, forcing his way into the conversation.

The three of them paused, all staring at him. Then they rapidly shook their heads.

"No." Of course it was Steve that spoke up first.

"Yes," Bucky shot back. "You don't have your shield, so you don't have a way to stop the bullets he'll shoot at us. I've got my arm," he paused, shooting a distasteful look down at the gleaming metal. "I can block the bullets and force my way in. That'll give the rest of you a chance to get in and disable him and whoever else is in the room."

"Tony can go in first. He's got his suit," Steve said, ignoring Sam and Tony to give Bucky his full attention. "Besides, we don't know how much of a hold Everett could still have on you."

"He doesn't have a hold on me without the words," Bucky said.

"But he has the book inside with him."

"He needs time to say them all," Bucky said, temper rising, though he knew Steve was right about Tony. "You don't know how it works. He has ten words he has to get through. That'll take more than a few minutes to complete." At the time it had felt like hours, but Bucky knew that it had only been minutes.

"But why risk it?" Steve asked. "Bucky, why are you so hell bent on getting yourself hurt again?"

"I _owe_ him," Bucky insisted, stepping forward to emphasis his point. His metal hand clenched against his thigh, itching to be used against the small, grey man.

That gave Steve pause.

"Are you going to kill him?" Steve asked quietly.

"If throwing him across the room into a wall kills him, then, yes, I'm going to kill him," Bucky said bluntly.

"Whoa, ease up there," Tony said, butting into their conversation.

Both Steve and Bucky's heads snapped around to glare at the newcomer.

Tony's throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"We don't have time to be arguing about this. Someone needs to lead the way in. Clearly, that someone should be me." Tony jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I've got the metal suit that'll protect me from any gun he shoots my way. Barnes, you know that I don't care if you die, in fact, I'd be happier for it."

Bucky frowned as Tony took a breath to continue.

Lie. Tony was lying; he _did_ care if Bucky died. Maybe he only cared because he wanted to be the one to do it or maybe he had lost his taste for killing. Whatever the case, Bucky didn't say anything. Instead, he stored that bit of information away for later.

"But, Steve would kill me if you died, so I'm voting for you to go last, after I bust down the door and take care of any armed threats," Tony finished.

"I agree," Steve said quickly. "Tony, you go in first. We'll follow." He trained his eyes on Bucky, his voice leaving no room for any more arguments.

Bucky shrugged; he had lost the battle the minute he suggested he go in first, but that hadn't stopped him from trying. Everett was _his_ to deal with and he didn't want the others to get hurt trying to get to him. His life wasn't worth as much as Steve's or the others, even Tony's. Steve would say otherwise, but Bucky knew he had been alive for longer than he ever should have been. He knew he should have died when he fell from that train. It wasn't that he had a death wish, it was just that if he died protecting the others he would die happily.

With the matter settled, Tony's helmet visor went down he marched his way to the door with his palm up. He threw out a blast of energy at the handle of the door, punching a hole through it.

He then body slammed the door, knocking it down, and disappearing into the dark depths of the room.

Steve immediately followed and Sam hurried to get behind their Captain, casting an apologetic look over his shoulder to Bucky for leaving him to enter last.

Bucky spent a second wondering what could have happened between Steve and Sam to make Sam's attitude towards him change; he wasn't complaining, only interested.

Bucky paced forward, stepping into the dark room. He paused on the threshold, staring at the others.

They stood around Everett's slumped body, sitting on one of the room's chairs.

Steve looked up as Bucky's boots crunched the broken door beneath him. He gestured to Everett with a hand.

"He's dead," Steve said quietly.

Bucky nodded; he could see that from where he stood. Everett's body was unnaturally still, eyes wide and unseeing.

Bucky moved further into the room, closing the circle around the body. He eyed Everett critically.

"There's no outward wounds," he said. "He had to have been poisoned or something similar."

Tony gave Bucky a look. "Yeah," he agreed after a moment. "I don't know what type poison, but, yeah, that's probably what it was."

Bucky leaned down, hands beginning to pat down the body. He paused at Everett's hip, pulling the pistol from its holster. He placed it on the table and continued his quick search.

Nothing. It wasn't there.

He stepped back, his lips tightening.

"It's not there," Bucky said, looking up to the others. "He doesn't have the book."

"Dammit," Steve sighed, rubbing a palm against his face. "Then we've only wasted time here. We need to get out before they find us."

"Hang on," Sam said. "Why is he dead? If he was poisoned, then who did it?"

"Hydra," Bucky said grimly, not hesitating with the answer.

"It was probably Grekov," Tony put in.

Steve and Sam frowned, but Bucky stiffened; he had almost forgotten about his former guard. Of course, it was Grekov (he had never known his name before). Grekov had been brought in by the CIA for some reason and he had killed the director of the base, taking the Red Book.

"Grekov is still working for them," Bucky said. "He's still working for Hydra."

Steve and Sam exchanged a look. Bucky's eyes narrowed, tracking the small movement.

"What?" he demanded.

"That explains the Hydra men we ran into. They mentioned that they had someone on the inside. This Grekov guy has to be who they meant," Sam said.

"Hydra is here?" Bucky said. It wasn't quite panic that held his feet frozen to the ground, but a mixture of fury and fear. "They're coming for me."

"We're not going to let them take—," Steve started, but Bucky waved him off.

"I know, but you may not have a choice, Steve. If Hydra is here in a CIA base, then they're not fucking around. Not like the men back in that town with Weber. Those Hydra men were weak and out of practice. These men, whoever Grekov has called, are here for one reason and they will fulfil their mission one way or another."

"I agree," the new voice shouldn't have surprised them, but they were tired and running on adrenaline more than anything else so it did.

Bucky had the gun off the table and pointed at the newcomer within a matter of seconds, while Tony powered up his glowing palms, stepping forward.

"Ross," Steve spat from Bucky's side.

Ross stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, looking down the barrel of Bucky's gun calmly.

"Sergeant Barnes," he said, "we haven't met. I'm Thaddeus Ross."

Bucky sneered back. "I don't care."

"I'm not here to take your men anywhere, Captain. I'm here because we have a problem," Ross said to Steve. "I'm here because I need your help."

* * *

Tony blinked. He couldn't have heard Ross correctly. _Ross_ needed their help?

"What?"

Ross' eyes moved from Steve's cold ones to Tony's.

"Put your hand down, Stark. I'm not here to arrest you. We need your help. As I'm sure you've figured out from Everett," here Ross jerked his chin at the dead body. "Hydra has broken into our base. They've jammed our communications and killed the men and women working on getting them up and running in the control room. We can't call for help and because of your escape from earlier, the whole building is on lockdown—we can't get out or receive any outside help."

Tony dipped his head. "That's what happens when you enlist the help of so-called retired Hydra scumbags."

Ross' eyes sharpened. "I wasn't the one that brought him in. Grekov was Everett's idea and he died for it. My main concern is saving the lives of the men and women left inside this building."

Ross let that sink in, glaring at them from the doorway.

"We'll help," Steve said, stepping forward next to Bucky. He crossed his arms over his chest. "On a few conditions."

Ross eyed Steve, matching the Captain's stance. "Name them."

"We go free when this is over," Steve said, gesturing to Tony and the others. "We leave, and no one stops us or comes after us again. As for the rest of my team, they can come out of the cold and return to their lives without repercussions."

Ross' breathed deeply out of his nose, but he gave a short nod. "Fine. You and your men will be free to leave and we won't come after you. We'll stop our search for Agents Barton and Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff."

"When they do surface you won't come after them, especially Wanda," Steve insisted.

"Agreed," Ross said.

"One last thing," Steve said, causing Ross to frown. "You'll leave Bucky alone. You won't arrest him for past crimes, you won't use him as an assassin, and you'll let him leave with the rest of us." Steve's voice was cold and unyielding; this wasn't a negotiation.

Ross paused, staring down the Captain, who didn't back down. He finally gave a long nod. "Done."

Steve's body relaxed slightly. "Good. Then we'll take care of your Hydra problem," he said easily.

He reached over to Bucky, placing his hand on the top of the gun, pushing it down to Bucky's side.

Ross turned his back on them, stepping from the room to give them a chance at a semi private conversation.

"Make it quick," he said over his shoulder.

Bucky gave Steve a dark look, dropping his voice. "You can't trust him, Steve. He's lying."

"I _don't_ trust him," Steve answered lowly. "I've learned not to trust men like him."

"What's he lying about?" Sam asked Bucky. "Can you tell?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, but he is lying. Or at least not telling us the whole truth."

"Then we'll be ready," Tony said, joining the conversation. "If he's lying, then we'll be ready with plan B."

Steve arched his eyebrows at Tony. "Plan B?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "We kick his ass and leave."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Bucky's lips, surprising Tony.

"If plan B fails," Steve said, "then we're stuck here with no way out. They won't let you help us escape a second time, Tony."

"We won't fail," Tony insisted. "We're the damn Avengers, Steve."

Steve held Tony's gaze, causing Tony to squirm under Steve's stern eyes. But Tony had complete faith in the four of them, even Bucky. They'd be able to save the lives of the CIA agents and still make it out of here in one piece.

"Fine," Steve said, lips twitching into a smile. "We kick his ass if he doesn't let us go."

* * *

"The control room has been taken over by Grekov and his men," Ross said once he came inside the room. He pointed at the screen that depicted the scene. Tony had helpfully taken it off the loop so they would be able to see what was happening in real time.

"How'd you get out?" Sam asked suspicion lacing his voice.

Ross gave Sam an unimpressed look. "I was out before they took it. I was coming back to this room to talk to Everett."

"That's when you found him dead?" Steve asked.

Ross nodded. "He was dead and Grekov was gone."

From there Ross had tried to call for help only to find that the comms were jammed. Making his way back to the control room, he found it overrun with Hydra agents.

"And that's when you found us and decided to use the men that you've been hunting for the last nine months for help?" Sam asked, clear what he thought about Ross' intentions.

"I realized, Mr. Wilson, that the needs of the men and women in this building are greater than my desire to see you locked up," Ross said sharply.

Steve stepped forward, hands out to placate both of them. "Take it easy. We're on the same side."

"For now," Sam muttered, but Ross chose to ignore him.

Steve gave Sam a warning look; it wasn't the time to be picking battles with Ross. Sam acknowledged the look with a nod.

"There's Grekov," Bucky said suddenly, hunched over the screens. He turned, looking over his shoulder to Steve. "He's in the control room, holed up with his men."

Steve paced across the room to stand next to his friend. For a moment, he ignored the screen, keeping his focus on Bucky.

"Are you okay?" Steve kept his voice low.

"Yeah," Bucky said, the response was familiar and most likely not true at this point.

Steve shook his head, pressing his palms against the top of the desk and leaning forward to peer at the blinking screen.

Grekov stood in the middle of a glass room, the same one that Steve and Sam had been put when the CIA had first arrested them.

Hydra men milled around the entire room, nudging the remaining CIA agents with weapons to remind them who was in charge.

In Grekov's hand was the Red Book.

"He's got it," Steve said. He turned to look at Bucky. "He's got the book."

"I see it," Bucky said. His eyes tightened as he stared at the man.

Steve straightened. "We've got eyes on Grekov and the Red Book."

The others moved towards the desk, crowding around Steve and Bucky to get a look.

"Damn," Tony said, behind Steve. "He's got a lot of men."

"How'd they all come so quickly?" Sam asked, the glow of the screen reflecting his off his skin.

"They really want me back," Bucky said, as if it should be obvious.

Steve's jaw clenched and he shot Bucky's calm form a quick look. How could he not be more afraid of what was going to happen if they didn't make it out of this? If Hydra got their claws in Bucky again, he would never get out; Hydra would never let him go. It was something Steve wasn't willing to let happen, but he also knew that he may not be able to stop it and that scared him half to death.

Steve's attention went back to the screen as Grekov moved. They watched as the older man looked directly up to where the camera sat. A smile twitched at his lips and he gave them a small wave. His mouth started moving on the screen. Tony's arm shot between Bucky and Steve, hitting a few keys that brought the sound abruptly back.

"...I'm sure Mr. Stark has found a way to watch us," Grekov was saying. "I want you to listen carefully, Captain." He leaned forward to emphasis his point. "I want the Soldat."

Bucky stiffened next to Steve, glaring at Grekov.

"I know that you value life, Captain, so I will make you a generous offer. The lives of these men and women for the life of one man."

Bucky's metal hand was crushing the desk that he clutched as Grekov continued to talk.

"It is a fair trade, no?" Grekov grinned. "I know it's not easy to sacrifice your friend for people you don't even know, which is why I will help make the choice clearer." At this he nodded to one of his men, who reached out, snatching one of the sweater wearing agents from his desk.

The man yelped and struggled in the Hydra agent's grip, but couldn't stop from being brought to Grekov. He was deposited at Grekov's feet, scrambling to stand, but forced to kneel.

The man's lips were trembling, he knew was coming, but defiance shone through his eyes.

Grekov pulled a pistol from the back of his pants, pressing it to the man's head. He looked up at the camera.

"You have ten minutes to bring the Soldat to me." He then pulled the trigger.

Steve watched as the body of the CIA agent dropped to the floor, feeling Bucky shudder next to him.

"The bastard just killed him," Tony said in a strangled voice. "He's dead."

"Because of me," Bucky said, pushing off from the desk.

Steve was quick to follow.

"We're not giving you up."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Stop him," Steve said.

"How? He'll keep killing them until you bring me to him," Bucky shot back. "Are you really willing to have that blood on your hands?"

"He's right," Ross interjected.

Steve shot him a glare.

"We all know that he's going to kill them all until you break and bring Barnes to him."

"Bucky in Hydra's hands is ten times more dangerous than you and Everett thinking you could control him," Steve snapped.

"I know that," Ross said. "Obviously, we can't give Barnes to him, but we need to do something."

"We use me as bait," Bucky suddenly said.

Steve shot out a hand, placing it on Bucky's chest, as if he could hold his friend in place.

"No."

"Yes," Bucky insisted. "I have too much blood on my hands already. I'm not going to let Grekov add to that."

Steve's hand on Bucky's chest curled around the shirt as he glared at Bucky. His friend held the gaze steadily.

Everyone else had fallen silent, knowing that it didn't matter what they said, this conversation was between Bucky and Steve.

"He has the book," Steve said softly. "He can control you."

"He can try," Bucky said.

The two of them stared at each other for a beat more before Steve dropped his hand from Bucky's chest.

"Fine, we'll do it. We'll use Bucky to get to Grekov."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I go through highs and lows with every other chapter. So like, I thought last weeks chapter was great, but I think today's isn't so good. But whatever. It's doing what its supposed to (which is move the plot).
> 
> So, I know that Steve doesn't mention Scott Lang in his list of demands, but I'm going on the assumption that Ross has honestly forgotten about him and Steve doesn't want to remind him. I know, it's a weak argument, but it's what I'm going with right now.
> 
> Also, I feel like I might be losing my grasp of the characters? Hopefully that's not the case.
> 
> Lastly, Jadesky1 has offered to be my beta for this story! So a big thanks to her for her help! 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and the comment from alysha!


	10. My Bones Will Make It Grow

 

With minutes to spare, Bucky made the call to Grekov, his voice ringing through the speakers in the control room.

"Don't kill anyone else, you son of a bitch," Bucky growled.

From the flickering screen, Grekov looked momentarily surprised at the sound of Bucky's voice and not Steve's. But he got over it quickly, shooting a smile up at the camera.

"Is that you, Soldat? Where is the good Captain?"

Bucky glanced over his shoulder to where Steve stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a dark frown on his face.

"He's not here," Bucky said. "He didn't want to trade me, but it isn't his call to make."

Grekov tapped a finger against his bottom lip. "How did you manage to get him out of the room long enough for you to talk to me?"

"Hydra never questioned my methods before," Bucky snapped. "Why are you starting now? What matters is that I'm willing and ready to make a trade. Me for the lives of the men and the women in this building."

Grekov shrugged. "You're right, of course. I will gather the CIA agents in this room and the building and put them into the vault in the basement. I'll leave them under the supervision of some of my men. Once the exchange is made, I will allow you to radio one of your friends who will be free to release the good men and women."

"Fine," Bucky said. "We'll make the exchange in the dining hall. I'll come alone, as will you."

Grekov laughed, his grip on the Red Book tightening. "I think not, Soldat. We all know that if I come alone, you will easily kill me. No, I will come with my men and you will come alone. Is that clear?"

Bucky paused. "Agreed."

"Good. You have twenty minutes," Grekov added.

He stabbed at the keyboard breaking the connection to the control room. He turned around, leaning back against the desk.

"We've got twenty," Bucky said.

"Let's not waste it," Steve said, stepping forward. "Sam, Ross, and Tony will be ready to release the prisoners in the basement, while Bucky and I head to the meet."

"He said to come alone," Bucky said flatly.

Steve glared at Bucky. "If we're going through with this plan, then this isn't up for discussion. You're not going alone. I'm going to watch your back. Hydra isn't going to take you again."

Bucky opened his mouth to argue; to say that this was his choice, not Steve's. It was Bucky's life to give, not Steve's.

But Tony broke into the conversation before he could.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He shot a look at Bucky. "I'd just go with it, Barnes. You know he isn't going to let you go alone."

It was probably the most decent Tony had been to Bucky in quite some time, so Bucky just nodded his head, accepting that he couldn't control anyone but himself and if Steve wanted to come along there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

"Good, that's settled then," Steve said, satisfaction lining his voice. "Sam, you, me, and Bucky are going to the nearest armory. We need weapons before we face the enemy."

Sam gave a nod, leading the way out into the hall with Bucky and Steve following closely behind.

Sam glanced behind him and then discreetly put some distance between himself and them, giving Steve and Bucky some privacy; he didn't want to be in the middle of a silent argument between the two.

"You know that I wouldn't have agreed to this plan unless I could have your back," Steve said immediately after Sam had disappeared around the corner. "There's no way in hell that you're going in there solo."

"I know," Bucky said shortly. "I just don't want you caught in the crossfires if something goes wrong."

Steve gave him a sideline look. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

Bucky snorted.

"But even if it did, that's why I need to be there," Steve continued.

"It'd be better if it was just me," Bucky said. "They don't want to kill me."

"And they want to kill me?"

"It would be a bonus," Bucky said. "Recapture the Winter Soldier and kill the man who broke the Soldier, kill Captain America." Bucky's lips twitched a little over the name, even though their conversation was deadly serious.

"They won't kill me," Steve said, dismissing the idea. "Hydra has tried before and they've always failed before. It won't be any different this time."

"There's a first time for everything," Bucky muttered as they entered the armory.

Sam was already gathering up rifles for himself and Ross. He was putting multiple clips of ammo into a black duffel conveniently left in the room.

"They've got a lot in here," Sam said pleased with the selection. "You should be able to find something you like."

"Did you see a shield by any chance?" Steve asked.

Sam paused, looking up. He shook his head. "Sorry, Cap, that's not here. Stark would have a better chance at telling you where that is than me."

Steve shrugged. "It's fine. I knew what I was doing when I put down the shield." He glanced over Bucky, who eyed him back.

Sam shifted, pulling the duffel over his shoulder.

"Hurry up, you guys, we don't have a lot of time." Sam then turned on his heel, exiting the room and leaving Bucky and Steve alone.

Bucky reached down to the table, plunking up a knife. He twirled it in his flesh hand, checking its weight and balance.

With a satisfied smile, Bucky sheathed the knife and hooked it to his belt.

Steve was in the corner of the room where he pulled out two tactical vests. He tossed one to Bucky while trying to pull the other one on.

Catching the vest, Bucky smirked at him. "I'm not sure they make them in your size."

Bucky easily pulled it on his over his black t-shirt. He tightened the straps, pulling the vest taut against his chest.

He watched as Steve threw the other one away, a rueful look on his face.

"I guess I'll just have to keep out of the way of flying bullets," Steve said.

Bucky's smile slid off his face. He turned his back on Steve, pulling an M16 to him. He looked to make sure the clip wasn't in and then down the slide, checking that there were no bullets in it, before fitting it to his shoulder and looking down the barrel.

He picked up a few clips of ammo, shoving them into his vest.

"Got your weapon?" he asked over his shoulder. "We should get moving."

"Yeah," Steve said quietly. He stepped towards Bucky, a pistol on his belt and a rifle in hand. "You know that I was just joking, right? No one is going to shoot me."

Bucky nodded. "I got that."

He didn't mention that he wished Steve hadn't brought it up. Images of Steve, really his only friend, lying dead in a puddle of red blood, flashed through his mind. It added to the collection of other dead bodies he had gathered over the years, but it was different because Steve was separate from all those other people. Steve was his friend, his brother, and Steve was all he had left.

"Let's do this, Buck," Steve said, nudging his friend with his shoulder. He caught Bucky's eyes with his, and Bucky could see the veiled worry in them, but it was overtaken by a determination to see through this plan.

Steve might not like the plan, but he was going to go with it and make sure that nothing happened to Bucky.

Bucky knew he could count on Steve to have his back, but it wasn't his back he was worried about.

If Grekov managed to spit out the words before Bucky could stop him then not even Steve could stop what he became.

* * *

With Steve and Bucky on their way to meet Grekov in the dining hall, that left Tony, Sam, and Ross to make their way down to the basement.

Tony had watched as Grekov organized his men and marched the CIA agents down into their new prison.

Tony had rigged up a comm system so that he could talk to Steve (he had grudgingly given one to Bucky as well) throughout the whole process.

Steve and Bucky were quiet on their end, not having hit the comms to communicate with Tony and Sam.

Tony led the way; he could handle the bullets that were sure to come. And they would come because, obviously, Tony wasn't going to let Barnes leave with Grekov and his Hydra goons, which meant they needed to get the prisoners out before Grekov could take Barnes away.

The whole plan rested on Tony and Sam doing their job and getting the CIA agents out of danger, and maybe kicking some Hydra ass on the way.

Sam looked different without his normal backpack of metal wings, but he looked more than capable of handling himself with the rifle that he had acquired.

"How we doing this?" he asked Tony as they marched. "We didn't really have time to discuss the details."

"I lead the way—," Tony started, but was interrupted by Barnes over the comms.

"You can't go in guns blazing," his voice crackled roughly. "If you do that one of the other Hydra agents will alert Grekov who will tell him to kill the agents."

"Obviously," Tony shot back, "we won't do that. Pay attention to your own mission, Barnes."

He clicked off his end of the transmission, focusing back on Sam.

"Clearly, we're not going in guns blazing," Tony repeated, ignoring Sam's twitching lips.

"Then what are we doing?" Ross demanded from behind them.

"Something better," Tony replied.

* * *

"He knows what he's doing," Steve said to Bucky, who shot him a dark look. "Tony won't let the agents die."

Bucky shrugged, unwilling to talk about Tony so close to the start of their plan.

They were nearing the dining hall.

Bucky paused, jerking his head to the side, indicating that Steve needed to back off.

Steve dropped behind Bucky, giving him a reassuring nod. Bucky continued on without him, but was thankful for Steve's invisible presence behind him.

His step stuttered as he reached the double doors that led into the white dining hall.

Grekov must have shut off the alarms because the lights overhead weren't flickering red and the loud wail of bells had been silenced.

Peering through the square window that looked into the room, Bucky could see Grekov, surrounded by what looked like twenty or more Hydra agents. Grekov wasn't stupid; he would have requested more than just twenty agents to bring Bucky in, which meant that the rest of them were guarding the CIA agents. Stark and the others were going to have to deal with more men than anticipated.

Bucky pressed a finger to his ear, hearing the small buzz as the comms connected.

"Stark? You're going to be running into more Hydra agents than we figured." He paused. "Be careful."

There was a lengthy silence on Stark's end, before Bucky heard an affirmative.

Satisfied with that, Bucky shoved open the doors, striding in.

The doors slammed behind him, echoing in the room.

Grekov and his men stood in the middle of the space, spread out so that if Bucky decided to charge them he wouldn't be able to bring them all down at once.

Grekov raised his arms in a greeting, Red Book clutched in one hand.

"Soldat," he said, grinning broadly. "You've come."

Bucky stopped a good six feet away from Grekov. He crossed his arms over his vest, a scowl written across his features. He knew that he had to delay the exchange long enough for Stark and the others to get the men and women out of the holding cells.

Grekov eyed the black vest and M16 hanging from the rifle's sling around Bucky's shoulders. "There's no need for that, Soldat. You know we wouldn't harm you. Not you."

Bucky grimaced. If not "harming" him included the multiple wipings and various forms of torture then he begged to differ. And that was only the tip of what had been done to him in his time with Hydra.

Grekov might not have been around for all of it, but he had to know what had been done to the Winter Soldier in all the years that Hydra had him.

Bucky shrugged, pulling his mind away from the dark thoughts of his past. He tugged at the vest with his flesh hand.

"It makes me feel better," he said, and after a brief moment said, "How do I know you won't just kill everyone in the building once you have me?"

He set his stance, legs apart and locked.

Grekov sighed. "You don't know. I'm afraid it's something you'll have to risk."

Bucky cocked his head to the side slightly as the comm in his ear gave a soft buzz and Steve's voice came through.

"Move to the left, Buck. I'll have Grekov in my sights."

Bucky obliged Steve, shifting to the side, while giving Grekov a sneer.

"I remember you."

Grekov blinked at the change in topic.

"You were nothing back then," Bucky continued. "Just a guard, a thug for Hydra. How'd that change? Hydra has confidence in your ability to bring me in?"

The grin was long gone from Grekov's mouth and a cold, tight line had taken its place.

Clearly, Bucky's words were making an impression. So he continued.

"I don't remember everything from that time, but I do remember your job. You simply made sure that my restraints were tight and if I escaped then you were to take me down."

"You never escaped," Grekov cut in, voice harsh. "You never even tried. You _knew_ you were nothing but a weapon, a tool to be used and put away."

The words were meant to hurt, to wound, but Bucky felt nothing from them. He knew that he had been close to mindless as the Winter Soldier, but that wasn't who he was anymore.

The Soldier was still there, lurking in the depths of his mind, always ready to come out if prompted.

"It never seemed like a choice I could make," Bucky said, continuing the distasteful conversation.

" _Choice_?" Grekov spat, stepping forward. His mouth was etched into a leering smile. "You think you have a _choice_?"

"No," Bucky said. "I know I didn't."

"Choice has nothing to do with your purpose, Soldat," Grekov said. "You are nothing. You are Hydra's Fist, and that's all you'll ever be."

Finally something sparked in Bucky's chest and he frowned.

"No," he said.

"We've had you for years, Soldat," Grekov continued. "Before my time and we'll have you again, after I'm long gone."

"No," Bucky shouted, striding forward. He ignored the squawking in his ear from Steve and the guns that jerked up to meet him. With an outstretched hand, he grabbed Grekov's throat with his metal hand.

Grekov gasped in surprise, waving his men off. Either he was braver than he looked or stupider.

The men, ever the loyal ones, did as he asked and didn't make any move to pull Bucky away from Grekov.

Bucky brought Grekov close, ignoring the man's weak attempts to remove his hand.

"I am not your Soldat anymore," Bucky's mouth curled angrily over the word. "My name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"Sir!" one of the Hydra men said. "They've attacked the holding cell. They're attempting to free the prisoners."

Grekov wasn't given a chance to answer. Behind Bucky, the double doors surged open and Steve burst in.

Grekov's bulging eyes widened at the sight of Steve's white hot fury.

"Kill him!" Grekov choked out, jabbing a finger over Bucky's shoulder to the other man.

* * *

"Stark? You're going to be running into more Hydra agents than we figured. Be careful."

Tony didn't bother to keep the surprise off his face; it wasn't like Sam or Ross could see it behind his mask anyway.

"Uh, thanks," Tony finally said, before killing the connection. He didn't spend too much time thinking about Bucky's words; he had a mission to complete. "Looks like we've got more men than we originally thought."

"Damn," Ross muttered, his grip on his rifle tightening. "What was your brilliant plan anyway, Stark? Is it still going to work?"

"Yes, it is," Tony said. "We can assume that most of the Hydra men are guarding the entrance to the cell, but the rest of them are going to be spread out. They'll probably have a few in the hall before the cell. The rest of them will be in the landing that looks out over the holding area." He was thinking it through as he spoke. Without realizing it, his step had slowed, causing both Sam and Ross to almost run into his back.

"So, what's your plan?" Ross demanded. "You're just telling us the close to impossible odds here, Stark."

Tony almost wished he didn't have his mask on at that moment so he could give Ross his best bitch face.

"The plan, Ross, is that we take out the men in the hall first. Quiet enough that it won't alert the men inside or up top to what's happening."

"How are we going—," Ross started, but Tony held up a hand, cutting him off.

Tony spent a second enjoying the incredulous look that Ross gave him for interrupting.

"We knock them out. I've installed a new piece to my suit. It allows me to blow a near invisible drug that will knock the men out in seconds flat. Before you ask why we don't just use it on all of the men, I've only got enough for one group. It's a new design and I haven't had time to perfect it yet. I've been a little busy chasing Team Cap half way across the world."

Sam smiled. "Sorry about that."

"No you're not," Tony shot back.

"No, I'm not," Sam agreed. "I say we use your plan, Tony. It's not like we've got anything better at this point."

Tony decided not to answer that.

"Okay, so, Ross and I will knock out the men in the hall with my gas—don't worry about breathing it in, as long as you stay behind me it dissipates quickly. Sam, you take the men upstairs. Just wait until we get inside the room."

"So we are going in guns blazing?" Sam said.

Tony sighed, his breath hissing through his helmet. "Fine, yes, we are a little. But we'll take them out too fast. They won't be able to kill anyone."

And they did. Everything was going according to plan until Tony and Ross breached the door.

There were more men guarding the cell door inside than they had guessed.

"Shit," Tony muttered, staring at the equally surprised faces of Hydra agents.

It only took the Hydra men a moment before their weapons were up and firing at them.

Ross ducked back into the hall as bullets pounded into the wall and off Tony's armor.

Tony grimaced behind the red and gold of his mask, pulling both his hands up to blast the men with his thrusters.

It knocked a few of them away from the door of the cell, but more took their places. From behind Tony, Ross was peeking his head around the hall's door firing off a few rounds with his rifle.

The CIA agents in the cell had initially crowded around the small window on their door, eager to see what was going on, but when the bullets starting flying they had backed up where Tony couldn't see them anymore.

"This is not good," Tony said. "FRIDAY, connect me to Steve."

His AI complied and a second later Tony could hear Steve's shallow breath.

"Steve, we've got a bit of a problem. There's too many men, you're going to have to get in there and make sure they don't take Barnes because that's what's going to happen when the guys on my end tell that bastard Grekov what's going on."

"Dammit," Steve growled.

Tony silently agreed as a body came flying down from the overlooking upstairs. Sam clearly had chucked someone over the edge. The Hydra screamed as he fell, but the yell was cut short as he hit the floor with a sickening crunch.

Tony winced.

"You'd better hurry up and make a move, Cap. I don't think they're going to stick around for much longer."

* * *

"Got it," Steve said, clicking his comm off. He took a breath peering into the dining room from his spot at the doors. He was lucky that the doors both sported a square window, small enough to hide most of his frame, but big enough that he would be able to take a shot at Grekov.

Bucky was still talking to Grekov, delaying for Tony and Sam like they had planned.

But that's when all their plans went out the window.

Bucky suddenly strode forward, metal hand out. He snagged Grekov by the throat, pulling the man to him.

Steve's eyes widened, and he pressed a finger to his ear.

"Bucky, what are you doing? Put him down!"

Bucky ignored him, didn't even acknowledge him, keeping hold of Grekov's neck.

With a deep breath, Steve shoved open the double doors, his rifle up and pressed to his shoulder.

He took three men out before they could even blink, each sporting bloody holes in their chests.

Bucky moved out of Steve's line of fire, pulling Grekov with him.

With both Grekov and Bucky out of the way, the Hydra soldiers and Steve were free to kill each other.

Steve dived behind one of the square tables, kicking the chairs away and tipping the table on to its side for a little bit of cover.

It wouldn't hold up against many bullets, but it would have to do for the moment.

A moment later, bullets thudded into the table's thick surface. Steve winced as the bullets punched almost all the way through; he clearly wouldn't have as long as he thought.

Jerking his head up, Steve squeezed off multiple rounds from his rifle, assessing the situation quickly.

Most of the soldiers were hiding behind tables of their own, shooting at him, while others were attempting to flank him. The remaining bunch were trying to stop Bucky from choking the life out of Grekov without actually shooting him.

Steve ducked back down as more bullets slammed into the tabletop. It was times like this that Steve really missed his shield.

He jabbed at his comm. "Bucky? I could really use some help, pal."

There was no sound from Bucky until he heard a yell followed by a thud. It sounded like Grekov had just introduced himself to a wall.

Seconds later, bullets stopped slapping Steve's table, screams replacing the sound of the bullet's echo.

Steve popped his head up above the edge of his makeshift barricade. The Hydra men weren't firing at him anymore; they were too busy trying to defend themselves from Bucky, who was going full Winter Soldier on their asses.

Despite the circumstances, Steve grinned. It was refreshing to see the Hydra men—hardened soldiers—trying to fend off the attacks without actually killing or damaging Bucky too much.

They were shooting at him, mostly aiming for his legs and feet. Either they were atrocious shots or Bucky had them too scared to shoot straight and most of the bullets went wide.

Satisfied that Bucky had control of most of the men, Steve turned his attention to where Grekov was groggily pushing himself into a sitting position, hunched against the wall. His nose and forehead were bloody, and red splotches on the white wall indicated how he received the wounds.

Somehow, Grekov had managed to hold onto the Red Book while being choked by Bucky and then thrown into the wall. He had it clutched to his chest with a limp hand.

Steve stood up from his hunched position, and marched across the room while keeping an eye on the enemy soldiers.

He stopped at Grekov's feet, staring down at the man. He let his rifle hang loose against his chest, the sling catching it and holding it.

Grekov squinted up at Steve's large form, a sneer curling around his bloody lips.

"Ah, Captain, I see you didn't abandon your friend after all."

"I would never let Bucky do something like this. Especially not alone," Steve said.

"I would have been praised as a hero," Grekov said, spitting out a glob of blood. It splattered against the tile floor in a blossom of red. "I would have been the man to return with the Winter Soldat. They would have given me whatever I wanted, while they punished _him_ for his insubordination."

Steve's eyes tightened.

"I would have stood by and watched as they wiped his brain to start again, and I would have laughed."

"Stop," Steve growled. "It's over. You didn't win."

"I may not have won, but that doesn't mean Hydra will stop looking for him." Grekov jerked his chin to where Bucky was slamming the last of the soldier's heads into a table.

"Cut off one head—," Grekov started.

"Yeah, yeah." Steve waved a hand. "I know the rest of the slogan. This isn't exactly the first time I've tangled with Hydra."

Grekov glared at Steve.

"They will come for him," Grekov said. "And when they do they won't let you stop them again."

Bucky stalked up to them, stopping next to Steve's elbow.

"How's your face?" he asked Grekov with a dark smile.

Grekov touched a finger to his swollen nose, wincing slightly. He shoved himself up to a standing position.

"Are you going to kill me?" he finally asked.

Steve shook his head, while Bucky nodded at his side. He placed a hand on Bucky's cold metal arm, frowning.

"No, Bucky, we aren't going to kill him."

Bucky glared back for a brief moment, before his face cleared and he shrugged.

"I'm going to check the rest of the Hydra soldiers." He turned on his heel, leaving Steve alone with Grekov again.

Steve reached forward, grabbing Grekov's arm. He plucked the Red Book from Grekov's sweaty hand, eyeing the worn leather with distaste.

It was Steve's momentary distraction that allowed Grekov a chance to slip his hand to his belt.

When Steve looked back up, Grekov had a large black knife in hand. He only had time to widen his eyes before Grekov lunged towards him, brandishing the knife.

Steve jerked back, away from the slashing knife that was meant for his neck.

Steve snapped out a hand, catching Grekov in his already broken nose.

Grekov howled in pain, but even with streaming eyes he continued to stab at Steve with the weapon.

Steve dodged the wild attacks, sweeping a leg out to knock Grekov down.

Grekov fell heavily, just as a bullet whizzed over his head, lodging into the wall behind him.

Steve threw a look over his shoulder, seeing Bucky standing behind them with his rifle against his shoulder and his cheek to the stock.

There was a dark glint in his eyes as he stared at his target at Steve's feet.

Steve threw out a hand to stop him. "Bucky, no!"

Bucky ignored Steve. He didn't even glance Steve's way.

"Bucky," Steve tried again. "We can't kill him. We aren't killers. _You're_ not a killer."

Finally, Bucky's eyes flicked to Steve's, softening slightly.

If Bucky was going to say something he didn't get a chance. Grekov was back on his feet, using Steve's distraction once again.

"Hail Hydra," Grekov sneered, stabbing his knife into Steve's shoulder.

A second later, he jerked backward, slamming against the wall with a hole in his chest. He slid down it, a bloody grin on his face.

Bucky was at Steve's side in a second. He had pulled his pistol from its holster. He shot Grekov twice in the chest with it, making sure the man was going to stay down.

Steve didn't even feel the pain that should have been coming from where the knife was still sticking from his shoulder.

He stared at his friend, seeing the Winter Soldier on Bucky's face. He knew what Bucky had been, after all Hydra had sent him to kill Steve, but after so many months of Bucky just being Bucky it was hard to see the cold mask of who he had once been.

That was probably what Grekov had intended. He wanted Steve to see what Bucky was and always would be.

But he underestimated Steve. Steve knew there would always be a darkness in Bucky. A part of him would always be the Winter Soldier, but that didn't mean that the Bucky Steve had known wasn't in there too.

Steve believed Bucky could fight this. He believed his friend was capable of beating the Winter Soldier into submission and taking control of who he was meant to be.

Bucky turned to Steve, the cold of his mask heavy over his face. It cracked as he caught sight of the thick, sluggish, trail of blood creeping down the fabric of Steve's shirt.

He holstered his gun.

"Are you okay?"

The last of the mask broke away as he uttered those words.

Steve glanced at the knife. "Yeah."

"Good."

Bucky turned again, glancing down at Grekov again. A stillness overtook him.

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bucky said, his voice close to a whisper.

Steve leaned forward. "For what?"

"For killing him. He's right," Bucky said, toeing Grekov's side. "I'm a killer. I'll always be a killer."

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn't. Bucky was a killer, but war made killers of them all.

"Buck," Steve started, but the pause had been enough for Bucky to assume the worst.

"Let's get out of here," he said gruffly, spinning away from Steve and the dead grinning Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, guys. I'm struggling with these last few chapters. I don't really know why either. I know what I want to do with each one, but it's actually writing it that's been giving me problems. Hopefully, this chapter is good (and not the mess I think it might be).
> 
> I'm really thankful to my beta, Jadesky1. She had a lot of helpful comments and pointed out mistakes in this chapter. It's much better now that she went over it. 
> 
> As always, thanks for all the kudos!


	11. A Man Whose Heart is Hollow

Tony hadn't gotten a lot of information from Steve when he had commed his friend to ask what their status was with Grekov. Steve had been brief and to the point: "Grekov and his men are down. Bucky and I are coming to you."

Tony had accepted the information without a word; he knew better than to question Steve when the Captain's voice sounded tight and gruff. Clearly, more had happened during the supposed trade, but Steve hadn't mentioned any causalities on their end, so both he and Barnes were probably okay.

Besides, Tony, Sam, and Ross had had their own mission to complete. It had been halfway done when Steve's voice had come through and it had only taken a few minutes more to kill or knock unconscious the rest of the Hydra agents.

From there, it had been Tony's job to figure out the lock on the door that held the CIA agents inside.

Behind him he had vaguely heard Ross and Sam tying up the rest of their enemies. The Hydra agents had spat out curses and threats, but Sam and Ross ignored them.

After the lock on the cell door had opened, Ross had them replace their CIA agents with the Hydra men before returning to the control room.

Sam had then taken a group of CIA agents to search the rest of the building for any stragglers, which left Tony alone with Ross. Well, he wasn't exactly alone—there were a lot of CIA personal running around, trying to see what Hydra had done and how they had exactly gotten inside in the first place.

Ross and Tony sat at the conference table in the glass room that overlooked the control center, watching as the control room was slowly put back in order.

Tony had changed out of his Iron Man suit and was in casual clothes again. He kept tugged at the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt, giving Ross sly glances every other second.

Ross was sitting across the table from Tony, one elbow propped on the surface.

"What?" Ross finally asked, looking at Tony.

Tony guiltily looked away; his sly looks hadn't been as sneaky as he thought.

Ross turned to fully face Tony, an expectant look on his face.

"What?" he repeated.

Tony shrugged. "I'm just wondering if you're planning on keeping your promises to Steve."

Ross snorted. "I'm a man of my word, Stark."

"Steve doesn't trust you, neither does Barnes," Tony said. "I don't either, for that matter."

"I said, that you'd all be free to go, and that I wouldn't hunt you or the Captain's friends after this," Ross said. "I mean that."

Tony's eyes narrowed. Ross sounded sincere and Tony had always imagined that military men were people of their word, but he knew that it wasn't always the case.

"So you're willing to let Barnes and the others go after months of tracking them and trying to bring them in?" Tony asked.

"Are you?" Ross countered. "Are you willing to let Barnes go? Just like that? After everything that he did to you?"

Tony's breathe stuttered. "We're not talking about me."

But that was the question that had been tugging at the back of Tony's mind; _was_ he willing to let Barnes go, essentially forgiving the other man for the suffering he had caused Tony and countless others?

He didn't know.

When Ross had asked him this same question nine months ago, Tony hadn't thought twice about his answer; he couldn't forgive Barnes, or even Steve, for what had happened.

But things had changed.

It wasn't that Tony knew Barnes, but he now had a face and a personality to put to his parents' killer and it wasn't the face of a murderer.

That's really what it boiled down to. Barnes had been a killer, a murderer, for Hydra, but he wasn't anymore. He had spent the last few months frozen in cryo sleep, and before that he had been who knows where, minding his own business as far as Tony could tell.

However, a year of not killing people didn't make up for the 70 plus years of murder.

Confused and grumpy, Tony dug his thumb into his forehead where he could feel a headache coming on.

Movement caught his eye from outside the room. Bucky and Steve had returned. They hardly seemed aware of the mounting tension that sprang up in the control room at the sight of them. Identical looks of strain were mirrored on their faces, and Steve kept glancing at Bucky, who was resolutely ignoring him.

Steve had a thick bandage wrapped around his shoulder, traces of blood staining the white cloth. He held that arm stiffly against his side.

Tony winced at the sight; Steve hadn't mentioned injuries.

"Looks like the Captain is back," Ross commented, arching an eyebrow at Tony. "Have you made up your mind yet about Barnes?"

Tony glared at the other man, standing up. He left without a word, feeling Ross' silent laughter behind him.

"Steve," Tony said, letting the glass door close on Ross. "Are you okay?" He nodded at the bloody bandage, moving forward so that he was standing next to the other two men.

Steve followed the look, shrugging and then wincing at the movement.

"Grekov," he said as an explanation. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he glanced at Bucky next to him and his mouth closed.

"Bastard," Tony said.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, but a dead bastard now." He looked behind Tony. "Where's Sam?"

"Looking for anyone else that Hydra might have sent," Tony replied. "He should be back soon."

"Good," Steve said.

Steve eyed Tony. "You did a good job, Tony. These agents wouldn't be all here if it wasn't for you and Sam."

Surprised, but pleased at the praise, Tony waved it off.

From Steve's side, Bucky shifted, bringing both Steve and Tony's attention to him.

"Are you alright, Buck?" Steve asked concerned.

Bucky mutely nodded, but Tony had to agree with Steve, Barnes didn't look great. He was pale and his dark hair was hanging around his face in thick strands, making him seem even paler than he actually was.

"He's right," Tony said, almost swallowing his tongue when Bucky gave him a cold look, but he pressed on. "You're not looking great. Maybe you should sit down or something."

"I thought you _wanted_ me to die," Bucky said, voice rough. "Isn't that why you chased us halfway across the world?"

Tony's eyed widened at the sudden verbal attack from the other man.

"Bucky," Steve said sharply, but both Tony and Bucky ignored him, focused on each other.

"You're right," Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest and stiffening his legs. "I do want you dead."

"Tony," Steve snapped, eyes flashing.

Again he was ignored.

"So do it," Bucky said, teeth baring into a smile. His hand rested on the butt of his rifle hanging from the sling around his shoulders.

"Fine," Tony said, stepping forward, only to be stopped by Steve's broad chest.

Tony had a brief moment of nosing Steve's grey shirt before Steve's shot a hand out, pushing Tony away from Bucky. From there Steve rounded on Bucky to glare a warning at him.

"You both need to stop right now. We're all tired and running on the fumes of adrenaline," Steve said. He paused. "Bucky, let's take a walk."

Tony felt a moment of indignation that Steve hadn't just sent Bucky away, but it only took him a second to remember where they were and, more importantly, _why_ they were here. Bucky might have helped save their lives, but he was still one of the CIA's most wanted. Steve didn't trust the CIA men and women to leave Bucky alone; he didn't trust Ross not to give orders to take Bucky into custody.

Tony snorted as he watched them walk away. So much for the first steps towards forgiveness.

Admittedly it was a surprise when Barnes had snapped at him. It wasn't at all what he had sounded like over the comms earlier.

Tony frowned; Steve had come back with a bandaged shoulder, maybe Barnes had something to do with that. Maybe Barnes blamed himself for what had happened.

Tony shook his head; he didn't care about the reason, Barnes was still acting like an asshole.

He turned on his heel and went back into the glass room.

Ross watched Tony's trek across the room back to his seat, one hand tucked under his chin.

Tony's eyes narrowed at him, but didn't say anything to Ross' smug face.

"Barnes didn't seem happy to see you," Ross finally said after a moment of heavy silence.

Tony grunted, staring out into the control room.

"Was the Captain hurt?" Ross asked, interest tinging his words.

Tony finally looked over to Ross.

"Grekov got him in the shoulder, but that seemed to be the only wound that I could see," Tony answered.

"Hmm," Ross said, rubbing a finger against his thick moustache.

"What?" Tony asked.

Ross gave Tony a look. "Nothing. I'm just concerned about the health of our good Captain."

"Uh-huh," Tony said skeptically. He peered at Ross, who ignored him. He hadn't known Ross for very long, but in the time he had spent with the other man, searching for Barnes, he had gotten to know some of Ross' tells, which admittedly were many.

Ross was a hard man to read, but Tony had learned to understand the look on Ross' face when he was planning something.

Ross' mouth a pinched under his white and grey moustache, one finger tracing it as he stared out into the control room.

Ross clearly was up to something.

Barnes' words from earlier rang through Tony's head; Ross was lying.

* * *

"Bucky, stop," Steve commanded behind Bucky.

Bucky's boots squeaked underneath him as he halted. Glaring, he threw a look over his shoulder.

Steve didn't seem surprised by the venomous look directed his way. He stepped closer, circling around Bucky until he was facing his friend.

"What was that back there?" He jerked his chin vaguely in the direction of where they had left Tony Stark.

Bucky chewed on his tongue, not eager to get into it with Steve, the only person at this point that still cared to keep him around.

"Tony wasn't even trying to start anything with you. _You_ were the one that started it," Steve said, as if he almost couldn't believe that for once Bucky had been the one to almost start a fight.

"He wants me dead, Steve," Bucky said. "He's made that very clear."

"So you decided to skip the part where maybe he finds it in himself to forgive you?" Steve demanded, his voice rising.

Bucky let out a harsh laugh. "You think that he's going to forgive me?"

"Tony isn't a bad person," Steve insisted. "He doesn't want to kill anyone."

"You haven't seen what grief can do to a man," Bucky said. "He'll do anything to make the pain stop."

Steve was silent for a moment, stilled by Bucky's words.

"I have seen it," Steve said quietly. He locked his eyes on Bucky's. "I saw you die, Bucky. I was at Peggy's funeral. I woke up to a world completely changed by time. I know grief."

Bucky swallowed, wanting to look away, but held in place by Steve.

"When you fell off that train, I didn't think that I would be able to keep living. I thought that with you dead, my life wouldn't mean anything. _I_ wanted to die, just to make the pain stop."

Bucky didn't say anything.

"But I didn't," Steve continued. "I kept living, and I've been living for years since. Tony will be fine; he's strong and he'll move past this, if you let him."

Bucky paused, and he could see the glimmer of victory in Steve's eyes.

"Are you just hoping that I don't know about the stunt you pulled during the war? The part where you sacrificed yourself by putting the plane down in the ice? That wasn't an act of a man who wanted to live; you thought you were going to die then."

Steve's face fell slightly. "I wasn't sure if you knew about that," he paused, "but that wasn't me wanting to die. I didn't want to die then because I had something to live for. I thought that I was going to end the war by attacking that Hydra base and with the war won, I could've gone home. With Peggy."

Bucky knew better than to speak out against Peggy. He may not remember everything, but he remembered enough about her to know how much she meant to Steve.

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nose. He raked a hand through his hair, annoyed when the strands fell back into his face.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," he finally said.

"It's okay," Steve said, shrugging one shoulder. "But my point stands, Tony is a good man. He won't kill you."

Bucky shook his head; he wasn't going to argue with Steve anymore. Steve was too damn stubborn.

"How are we going to get out of here," Bucky said, bringing the conversation to more important matters.

Steve looked like he wanted to keep talking about Tony, but he conceded with a nod of his head.

"Ross gave us his word that we'd be able to leave."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course not," Steve said. "He won't let us leave, not now that he finally has us."

"You mean me," Bucky said. "There's only one reason why he's been hounding you for these past months. It's because of me. He knew that if he found you he'd find me."

He wasn't downplaying the importance of Steve; he just knew how far people would go to get their hands on him.

"So what are we going to do?" Bucky asked. "Ross won't let us leave without a fight. We can't take him and the remaining CIA agents on."

Steve's lips quirked. "Well, Tony will play a big part of whatever escape plan we might come up with, so maybe you shouldn't antagonize him."

Bucky snorted, the tension between them breaking.

"Fine. I'll try my best."

"Good," Steve said, smiling. "Your best is all we need."

"We should find Sam," Bucky said, craning his neck around as if Sam might suddenly pop out of one of the dark rooms that lined the hall.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

Falling into step with one another, they continued walking down the hall.

They didn't know where they were going; no plans had been made in searching for Sam. They were sure that Sam would turn up soon.

Bucky gave Steve a sidelong look. He cleared his throat.

"How's your shoulder?"

Steve glanced at it. "It's stiff, but I'll live."

"I'm sorry I didn't put him down sooner," Bucky said, his voice almost a snarl. "Damn Grekov."

"I'm fine, Buck," Steve said, frowning. "Besides, you couldn't have known that he'd try to kill me."

" _I_ did know," Bucky said. "I warned you before we even went into the room, remember?"

"Well, yeah," Steve said, "but that doesn't mean that he would follow through with it after he had been defeated."

"He was Hydra, they don't give up."

Steve was silent for a beat. "He's dead, Bucky, we don't need to dwell on it."

"Fine," Bucky agreed easily.

Steve wouldn't dwell, but Bucky would. Grekov was now another face to add to his collection.

Killing Grekov wasn't to be added to the list of faces he regretted killing. No, Grekov was added to the small pile of faces that he _didn't_ regret.

But Steve didn't need to know about that.

* * *

"Did you get the book?" Bucky asked after they rounded a corner.

Steve looked at him; Bucky seemed awfully chatty today, not that Steve was complaining. It was nice to have his friend to talk to again after months of Bucky being frozen and before that they didn't really have the time what with everyone out for Bucky's blood.

Steve's hand automatically patted the pocket of his cargo pants that held that book. It was a tight fit, but with some shoving the book had managed to slide into the pocket.

"Yeah, I got the book," Steve said.

Bucky was silent for a moment. The only sound was of their boots tapping against the tiles.

"Did you look at it yet?"

"No," Steve said. He hadn't had the time to even crack open the book. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was written inside.

"Good," Bucky said.

"We need to get rid of it," Steve said. "To make sure that no one else ever gets their hands on it."

"Destroy it?" Bucky asked.

Steve wasn't sure if he heard the hope in Bucky's voice or if he was just imagining it.

"You don't want to keep it, right?" Steve asked hesitantly.

Bucky rapidly shook his head, hair fanning out from the force of the movement.

"No, I don't," Bucky was quick to say. "I don't ever want to even see that book again."

Steve tapped at the pocket again, ensuring the book was still there. It was heavy against his leg, pressing tight to it.

"Don't worry," Steve said. "I'll take care of it. You won't need to deal with it."

Bucky nodded his thanks, though he didn't look completely convinced that his problems with the Red Book were over.

Even with said item in Steve's safe hands, he couldn't help but feel the same thing.

Both of their comms sounded in their ears, buzzing.

"Captain Rogers," the voice said, hesitating before adding, "Sergeant Barnes?"

"Yes," Steve said, replying for both of them.

"Thaddeus Ross wants to see you both."

Steve and Bucky shared a look.

Bucky reached into his ear, pulling out the comm and wrapping it in his hand before softly saying, "He's bringing us in."

"Yeah, but for what?" Steve agreed, removing his comm too.

"I guess it's time for him to reveal what part of the agreement he's going back on," Bucky said. "What do you want to do?"

Steve eyed the small, flesh colored comm in his hand, thinking. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, making sure to block the receiving end of it so they wouldn't be able to hear them talking.

"If we don't come, he'll just send people after as. But if we do go, then he'll make his move and we won't be able to stop it," Steve said slowly. "So we'll compromise. I'll go. You keep looking for Sam."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Steve held up a hand, holding it off.

"I can keep Ross busy, or at the very least, throw off his plans."

Bucky again tried to speak, only to be cut off as Steve continued.

"You can't go," he said. "All this has always been about you. He doesn't care about me or Sam. Like you said, I've always been a means to an end. You're the ultimate goal."

Bucky's mouth snapped shut.

Steve reached out, pressing his palm to Bucky's shoulder.

"I said I wouldn't let them take you again and I mean it."

Bucky's face was frozen, emotionless. His lips were pinched tightly together, and his eyes were dark.

If he wanted to say anything more, Steve didn't give him a chance. He jabbed his comm back into his ear, knocking Bucky's away so it cracked against the nearest wall. He ignored the glare Bucky sent him.

"Yes," Steve said. "Sorry about that. There was a problem with the connection. Bucky's comm is completely fried. I think something happened to it from the fight with Grekov."

"You had us worried, sir," the voice said. "If you would please come in to the control room, Ross will meet with you both there."

Steve nodded, even though he knew the woman on the other end of the comms couldn't see him.

"We'll be right there," Steve said, signing off.

Bucky was still glaring at him, emotion snapping back into place. He gave a pointed look to where his broken comm lay on the floor.

"We can't risk them tracing it," Steve said. "I'm going now. You need to find Sam and try to get out of here."

Bucky snorted.

"If you think that Sam and I are going to leave you, then you've got a screw loose."

"We'll meet somewhere outside of here. Like, back in that village. T'Challa's jet is still hidden there; they didn't have time to find it. They won't expect us to go back to where they originally found us."

Bucky shook his head. "Steve."

"Bucky," Steve countered. "There's no time. Go find Sam and get out of here. I meant it."

He wrapped Bucky's stiff body in a brief embrace, before turning on his heel.

The book thumped against his leg, reminding him of its presence.

He dug his hand into the pocket, clasping the book and turning, he tossed it to Bucky, who automatically reached up to pluck it from the air.

"Hold on to that," Steve said, walking backwards.

He gave Bucky a small grin, leaving his friend behind.

* * *

Tony watched as Steve entered the glass room. Alone.

Ross' eyes narrowed, not seeing Barnes behind Steve's large frame.

Steve let the door close behind him. In the silence of the room, the click of the door locking into place was audible.

Steve seemed comfortable, or at least calm, under Ross' accusing look. He strode forward, sitting next to Tony, across from Ross.

"Where's Barnes," Ross finally said after a brief staring contest between the two.

"I left him. He's looking for Sam," Steve said, folding his hands together on the table's polished surface.

"Wilson? He's hunting for any remaining Hydra agents. He'll come back when he's searched the building," Ross said.

"I know," Steve said.

Tony watched the exchange, his head swiveling between the two men.

"What's this about?" Steve asked.

Ross let out disgruntled noise. "I wanted to see both you and Barnes, Captain. I'd rather tell you both at the same time."

"It's just me, Ross," Steve said, a challenge playing in his voice.

The tension in the room rose with each breath.

Ross leaned forward pressing his palms against the shiny table.

"Do you have the book? The one that Grekov stole from Everett?"

Steve mutely shook his head.

Tony frowned.

"The magic book? What do you want with it, Ross?" he asked.

Ross' eyes flicked to Tony.

"It's not magic, Stark, it's conditioning. The Russians had the right idea with him. They brainwashed Barnes, but when that failed they had the words to fall back on."

Steve was stiff next to Tony, his eyes snapping with anger.

"Why do you want the book?" Tony repeated when Steve didn't ask.

Ross leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

"The same as everyone else. I want to control the Winter Soldier."

Steve let out a harsh laugh, startling Tony. It was clear he had expected this from Ross, but he still said, "You said you'd let us go. All of us."

"And I will," Ross said calmly. "After I get what I want."

"But you want Barnes," Tony pointed out. "He's part of the 'us.'"

Ross turned back to Tony.

"You want him dead, Stark, same as me."

Steve jerked forward, eyes widening. "Dead?"

"I want to understand how he ticks, how he's survived for so long. Once I understand that, I'll be able to use his genetic makeup and blood to make more like him from men and women of my choosing. After that, he's disposable." Ross cocked an eyebrow at Steve. "I said that he'd be able to leave with you, I just didn't say whether or not he'd be alive for it."

Steve's lips curled into a snarl.

"You're crazy."

Ross shook his head. "No, I'm just being realistic. Everyone wants to bend him to their will, but we've seen how well that worked for Hydra and then later for Everett.

"Barnes is broken, and you broke him, Captain." He paused. "I want to create the perfect soldier, loyal and obedient. I can do that once I understand how Barnes was made."

"Made?" Steve demanded, his body vibrating with the need to wrap his hands around Ross' neck, or at least that's why Tony figured Steve was shaking next to him. "Bucky was _destroyed_. He was broken down until he was nothing, then Hydra took the pieces and put him together how they saw fit. Do you really want to make soldiers from an assassin that Hydra created?"

Ross shrugged, so Steve plowed on.

"Besides, if it was possible to make more soldiers from Bucky they would have done it. Instead they sent Bucky to kill..." Steve faltered, giving Tony an apologetic look, "Tony's parents so that he could retrieve the serum that Howard had made."

"Captain, it is my duty to try," Ross said, ignoring that bit of information, his confidence shining through any doubt.

Tony held up a hand. "Why Barnes?"

Both Steve and Ross turned to Tony, confusion mirrored on their faces.

"I mean, sorry, Steve, but why not use Steve? He's a better soldier than Barnes; more strength and the ability to heal faster than normal."

Ross rubbed his moustache with his thumb, his focus completely on Tony.

"Captain Rogers is a national hero. It doesn't matter that the U.S. government is chasing him, and has been after him for nine months. The American public will always see him as a hero. The same can't be said for Barnes. He's an assassin and a killer, no one cares if he is locked away or killed."

Steve was practically out of his seat, indignation and anger radiating from him.

"Besides, Barnes has the unique combination of being a powerful soldier able to be controlled with a few simple words. I want to recreate that, if I can."

With that Ross got to his feet, he crossed the space to the door. He paused. "The book, Captain?"

Steve shook his head, glaring. "I don't have it."

Ross frowned, but accepted the answer. He turned his back on them, exiting the room and locking the door behind him.

Tony immediately sprang to his feet, examining the lock combination on the door.

It was more complicated than he thought. He swore, turning back to Steve.

"Did he really just lock us in here? Just like that?" Tony jerked his chin at Steve. "And I can't believe you just walked in here and let yourself be captured by him."

"I'm giving them time."

"Time to get away?" Tony laughed. "If you think they're leaving you, then you're delusional."

"Bucky said the same thing," Steve said ruefully, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

Tony frowned slightly. He wasn't sure he liked that he and Bucky had echoed each other. It wasn't something he wanted to have in common with the other man.

"The point remains," Tony said, waving a hand. "They won't leave you, so your whole martyr act failed."

Steve stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tony, did you really think I was going to leave you? I came to give them time and to get us both out if I could."

Tony froze, his shock evident on his face. Back when they were both Avengers Steve's words wouldn't have surprised him, but with everything that had happened between the two of them Tony had given up on ever having the same relationship they once had.

He had almost resigned himself to always being Steve's second choice, which if he stood back from the matter, he still was; Steve had made sure to give Bucky a chance to leave before coming for him.

"Tony, you're my friend," Steve said quietly.

The two of them stared at each other silently. Tony could see the sincerity in Steve's eyes, something he hadn't seen directed at him in close to a year.

Tony abruptly cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

"Good." He rubbed a hand through his thick hair. "Then let's figure a way out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might have finally managed to move past my weird writer's block. With that said, I'm still not sure about this chapter. It's doing what I want it to, but as usually I'm not sure it's as good as it can be. Oh well.
> 
> Also, I'm thinking there should only be a few more chapters left, and I'm sorta hitting the end of where I planned so I'm flying blind here. I've got some ideas, but nothing is set in stone yet. With that said, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep updating at the same pace I have been. I won't let more than a few days go by the normal Thursday, but I might not be able to keep posting every Thursday. I just wanted to let you all know that just in case I'm not ready next week.
> 
> I hope that jumbled mess made some sense. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos!


	12. Don't Make Any Sudden Moves

Bucky swore harshly; he never should have let Steve go to Ross. He had known it was a mistake as soon as Steve suggested it, but Steve being Steve didn't really give him a chance or a choice before taking off down the hall without him.

Bucky had continued on his own, and only a few minutes after Steve had left him, Bucky found Sam, who was on his way back to the control room with a group of CIA agents.

"Hey, Bucky," Sam called, waving his arm. He looked relieved to see the other man. "Glad to see you in one piece." He looked over Bucky's shoulder and his face dropped slightly. "Where's Steve?"

Bucky eyed the CIA agents behind Sam, who were nervously shuffling from foot to foot.

"He's not here. Ross wanted to see him," Bucky said. "He left me to come find you."

Bucky's voice was tight and clipped, something that Sam picked up on almost immediately.

"Okay," he said. "Go on ahead, guys, I'm going to talk to Barnes. Tell Agent Evans that I'll be right there." Sam waved his hand forward, ushering the other men and women on.

They gratefully scooted around him, shooting looks at Bucky as they passed.

Moments later, Sam and Bucky were alone.

Sam stepped forward, a worried frown playing on his face.

"What's going on? Where's Steve?"

Bucky jerked his chin the way the agents had gone. "Ross _does_ want to see him, but he also wanted to see me. We think that Ross is going to make his move, whatever that may be." Bucky paused. "Steve thought it best to go by himself."

Bucky's voice showed exactly what he thought about that, annoyance tingeing his tone.

Sam's lips twitched faintly in amusement despite the situation.

"Steve wants us to leave. He plans to give us enough time to get out of here," Bucky continued. "Without him."

Sam frowned. "Is he crazy?"

Bucky nodded his agreement. "He must be if he thinks we're going to do that."

Sam pulled his rifle closer to his chest, grip tightening on it.

"So what's the plan, Barnes?"

Bucky eyed Sam, surprised at the trust that Sam was showing him. Sam wasn't his biggest fan and hadn't been afraid to convey that to Bucky from the very beginning of this whole mess.

Honestly, Bucky didn't blame him. This had never been Sam's mission; it had always been Steve's goal to find Bucky and keep him safe. Sam was loyal to Steve, though, and was willing to follow Steve anywhere, even if that meant protecting Bucky.

Obviously, Sam and Bucky hadn't really hit it off. When Bucky had still been the Winter Soldier, he had tried to kill Sam more than once, and that was bound to put a damper on anyone's relationship.

But somehow, Sam seemed to have moved past all that and was maybe starting to accept Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, wrenching his mind back to their current mission.

"Steve is going to try to get Tony," Bucky finally said. "He won't leave Stark to Ross."

Tony had to be the other reason for Steve insisting on going to Ross. Steve wasn't stupid, and Bucky knew Steve wouldn't be putting himself in danger to only give them more time to escape; it would make sense for Steve to go back for Tony with the added bonus of delaying Ross from finding them.

Tony wasn't Bucky's favorite person, but he knew that Steve felt like he owed Tony for helping them escape earlier that day. And not only that, but there was a whole friendship that Bucky didn't know anything about between the two of them. They had both been the leaders of the Avengers and a team like that wouldn't have been able to run if Steve and Tony hadn't gotten along.

"That makes sense," Sam said, tapping a finger against the stock of his rifle. "Steve wouldn't leave without him. Especially after what Tony did for us."

"Ross doesn't care about Steve," Bucky continued, trying to work out a plan. "He wants me."

Sam didn't argue with that, shrugging slightly.

"We can make—," Bucky started, but was cut off by Sam, who was already shaking his head.

"If you suggest we trade you for him and Tony, then don't even bother. Steve would have my head if I let that happen."

Bucky glared at him. "Then what do you think we should do? We can't just fight our way into the room and expect to make it out of there without any casualties."

"We can bargain with something else," Sam said.

"No," Bucky said, shaking his head. "He won't take anything else."

"You don't know that," Sam said.

"I do," Bucky insisted. "That bastard has been chasing you and Steve around the world for nine months because he was looking for _me_. Now that he finally has what he wants, he's not going to let me go easily."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced before he started.

Ross' voice rang out, coming from the radio strapped to Sam's vest.

"Sergeant Barnes?" He paused, almost as if he was waiting for a response that Bucky wouldn't give.

Both Bucky and Sam had frozen in place, heads cocked to the side as they listened.

"I know that you can hear me, Barnes. You too, Wilson. I don't know where you are, but listen carefully."

Bucky frowned. If Ross couldn't see them that must mean the cameras were on the fritz, which was good for them.

"Captain Rogers and Tony Stark are here with me. Before you ask, no harm will come to them. It's not them I want."

Bucky breathed out of his nose; this conversation was starting to sound familiar. Grekov had made a similar offer to Steve earlier, and now Ross was making it directly to Bucky.

"Sergeant Barnes, you know what I want. If you come to the control room, I will let Rogers and Stark leave with Wilson, unharmed."

"How are the rest of the CIA agents just letting this happen?" Sam demanded in a harsh whisper.

"You saw their faces," Bucky said. "They're terrified of me. They're willing to sacrifice Steve in order to see me captured."

"I'm going to give you ten minutes, Barnes. If you don't comply," Bucky winced at his choice of word, "then Steve will suffer in your place."

"Bastard," Sam snapped.

Bucky silently agreed.

The radio crackled again. "Oh and bring the Red Book. I know you have it."

With that the radio fell silent.

Bucky and Sam stared at each other, not moving.

Bucky abruptly turned on his heel, boots squeaking under him.

Sam shot out a hand, grabbing hold of Bucky's black vest and attempting to twist him back around, but trying to move Bucky was like trying to move a boulder.

"Don't do it, Barnes, this is exactly what he wants and what Steve was trying to prevent," Sam said to Bucky's stiff back.

"Steve has been trying to protect me for months," Bucky said, finally turning again to face Sam. "This isn't something that he can stop. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. There's no point in me running away from the inevitable."

"This isn't inevitable," Sam insisted. "It's like you've already given up, man! You're giving yourself up to someone who is going to use you. You're doing it because you don't know what else to do. This life that Steve has been trying to make for you scares you, so you're running away."

"You think this is me running away?" Bucky demanded, feeling his anger rising. He stepped forward, getting into Sam's space. "I don't want to go to a man that wants to use me as his own personal assassin. I go to Ross and I lose any control that I might have imagined I had." He paused. "I go to him and I lose Steve. Probably for good. You think I want that?"

Sam held Bucky's glare, not backing down. "No, I know you don't want that. Which is why you shouldn't do this."

"I don't have a choice!" Bucky snapped. "Steve's life isn't worth this. _Your_ life isn't worth this." He jabbed a finger into Sam's chest, hitting the hard vest that covered it. "I'm not going to let you both sacrifice your lives for mine."

Sam was silent, staring at Bucky. His face had gone blank; Bucky couldn't get a read on his emotions, not that he ever really had before.

"Do you even have the Red Book?" Sam demanded after a beat.

Bucky patted the pocket of his vest, distaste veiled behind his eyes.

"If you go to him with the book, there's no chance that you can be saved. He'll have everything he needs. You and the book used to control you."

"I know," Bucky said grimly. "Which is why I'm not going to give it to him."

Sam blinked.

"I thought you were all about giving yourself up for Steve. I thought that included giving Ross the Red Book?"

"If I give him the book, there'll be no stopping him," Bucky said. "You're right about that. But I'm not going to let Steve take the hit for me, so I'll give myself up. That doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy on Ross. He wants to control me, so I'll take away the thing that he needs to control me with."

Bucky tugged at the pocket of his vest, pulling out the thin Red Book. He pinched it between two fingers for a brief moment, staring at the book that had controlled his life for years.

"What are you going to do with that?" Sam asked, eyeing the book.

"I'm not giving it to Ross," Bucky said, holding the book out. "I'm giving it to you."

Sam stared at the book held between them, not making any move to grab it.

Bucky shook the book a little.

"Take it," he said. "I'm not going in without a little bit of a plan. If Ross wants the book more than me, then he might be willing to trade for it. If not, then he only gets me and not the book."

"I'm not sure—," Sam started.

"Take it," Bucky insisted, pushing the book closer to Sam. "I need to give it to someone I trust."

And that was true, Bucky did trust Sam, more than he ever had before. He wasn't sure when it had changed, but it had. He had seen how much Steve trusted the other man, and after Sam had stopped acting like a tool towards him, which was a recent development too, Bucky realized that Sam was the person he trusted the most, after Steve.

"You trust me?" Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow. His mouth twitched a little. "That's new."

Bucky shrugged. "I don't have many options, do I?"

Amusement colored both of their voices.

Sam reached forward, plucking the book from Bucky's hand. He rubbed the worn cover with his thumb for a second, before shoving it into his back pocket.

The amusement disappeared from the air, as the seriousness of their situation took hold of them.

"Then we have nothing else to talk about," Sam said, nudging Bucky forward with the palm of his hand. "This is your choice and I'm not going to stop you."

Bucky cracked a humorless smile.

"It's too bad really," Bucky said, stepping back and letting Sam move past him. "Just when we were becoming friends, Ross has to pull this stunt."

Sam shot a look over his shoulder at Bucky. "Whoa, easy with the f word over there. I'm not sure we've known each other long enough to be friends."

A real smile broke over Bucky's features, and he fell into step with Sam.

"Thanks, Wilson."

"No problem, Barnes."

* * *

Ross entered the glass room that had become Tony and Steve's prison. A thin smile grew under his grey moustache, signaling bad news for Steve.

Ross held a radio in his hand, one finger lightly tapping against the top of the black object.

"What do you want, Ross?" Tony demanded from Steve's side, arms crossing over his chest. "Come to gloat?"

Ross shook his head, giving Tony a look.

"Stark, I'm surprised you haven't hacked into our system yet, or that you haven't put on your Iron Man suit to bust your way out of here."

Tony shrugged. He had told Steve that he wouldn't be able to use his suit for a couple of hours yet. He hadn't perfected the model and it still required time to reset and recharge. He had conveyed his anger at not keeping another, better suit, on him with a few choice words, which Steve had silently mouthed along with him.

"What are you doing here?" Steve snapped at Ross.

"I've come to tell you that you'll both be free to go momentarily."

Steve exchanged a look with Tony; that didn't sound ominous at all.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm getting what I want," Ross said. He stood near the door, not making any attempt to step further into the room.

A weight slipped into Steve's stomach, and his hands clenched at his sides. He made an attempt to stride forward, but Tony's hand hooked onto the crook of Steve's elbow, reminding him of where they were.

"Where is he?" Steve growled. "What have you done with Bucky?"

Ross' eyebrows rose. "I don't have him yet, Captain. He's agreed to exchange himself and the Red Book for you and your friends' to safely leave here."

Steve's lips curled; of course Bucky would do that. He knew that Bucky didn't think his life was worth any of theirs and he hadn't wanted Steve to go to Ross in the first place.

Ross turned to Tony. "You're welcome to stay, Stark. I know what Barnes has done to you and your family. If you want a little closure, I'd be more than happy to give it to you."

Steve's spin stiffened. He gave Tony a sidelong look, watching the different emotions flit across his friend's face.

He could see how much Tony wanted to accept Ross' offer. Tony wanted closure so badly he was considering destroying the hesitant friendship they had just rebuilt.

Steve knew that Tony was hurting from everything that had happened since he had found out about Bucky killing his parents. He knew that Tony didn't want to let go of what they had managed to repair of their friendship, but he was desperate not to feel this way anymore. He needed to let go of what had happened to his parents and he didn't know how.

"Tony," Steve said quietly.

Tony shuddered at Steve's voice. He broke eye contact with Ross, turning his gaze to Steve.

Steve saw something shift in Tony's eyes and he could breathe again.

"Thanks," Tony said, turning back to Ross, "but I don't need your help."

Steve reached out, clasping Tony's shoulder with his hand, offering him silent support and thanks.

"Suit yourself," Ross said, shrugging. "Barnes will be here soon." He paused. "I'm not a monster, Rogers, I'll give you a minute to say goodbye."

Steve's teeth clenched, but the contact with Tony grounded him, holding him in place as Ross left the room.

"We need to get out of here," Steve said. "We have to stop Bucky from coming."

"I think we're too late," Tony said. "Ross was sure that Barnes was on his way. We can assume that he'll be here within minutes."

"So we stay and wait for him," Steve said. "Once he gets here, we'll get out. All of us."

"I don't know if we'll have the chance," Tony said grimly. "Ross isn't going to let Bucky in here alone with us. He knows that you'll do anything to protect Bucky; he's not going to chance Bucky getting away."

"We have to do something," Steve snapped. "I'm not going to sit by and watch Ross destroy my friend."

Tony held up his hands to placate him. Steve could feel his breath coming in short bursts, fear and anger threatening to overtake him.

"We won't let him," Tony said.

Steve's head jerked around. "Ross was right, Tony, you hate Bucky. Why would you want to help me save him?"

Tony chewed on his lip before answering. "Because Bucky is your friend."

That gave Steve pause and some of his anger slipped away.

"Thanks, Tony," Steve said softly.

Tony shrugged, uncomfortable with the thanks.

Commotion sounded outside of the room, loud enough that Steve could hear through the glass.

He crossed the room, stopping inches from the glass of the door. He felt Tony do the same next to him.

Outside, he could see Bucky slowly walking into the control room, hands up and chest bare of the black tactical vest from earlier. No weapons were visible on him, but if Steve had to guess he figured Bucky had several knives hidden on his body.

The CIA agents in the room had backed away from Bucky, but most had weapons out, held loosely down by their sides in case Bucky made any sudden moves that Ross didn't like.

Ross walked towards Bucky slowly.

"Is there sound?" Steve asked Tony, jerking his head around to look at his friend.

He didn't even have to ask; Tony was already pressing buttons on the panel, eyebrows drawn together as he concentrated.

There a faint squeal and sound from outside echoed in the room.

"Sergeant Barnes," Ross said. "I'm glad to see you've come."

Bucky shrugged. "You didn't really give me a choice."

"What you will do for this country will make up for anything that you've done in the past," Ross said seriously. "You may not feel any loyalty to us anymore, but you're still an American."

Bucky's face twitched. "Am I?"

"Of course," Ross said. "You can still serve this country."

"Doing what?" Bucky said. "You want me to kill for you?"

Ross' face stilled. From where Steve stood, he could see that Ross seemed to realize that there were too many people around, too many prying eyes watching the exchange in open mouthed awe.

"Not exactly," Ross finally said. "Come with me."

Bucky didn't move when Ross stepped back.

"Where's Steve and Tony?"

Ross stopped. He shoved a finger out in Steve's direction, waiting for Bucky to follow his arm with his eyes.

When Bucky finally caught Steve's gaze, his body relaxed slightly. His eyes flickered back to Ross.

"Let them go," Bucky said. "I'm not going anywhere with you until they're free."

Ross snorted. "I let them out and all of you attempt to kick my ass and escape. Not likely, Barnes."

"So lock me up and let them out," Bucky snarled, stepping forward.

The agents around them jerked forward with their guns, but Bucky didn't seem to notice as he glared at Ross.

"Fine," Ross said. He nodded his head to some of his men, not CIA agents, who came forward with large metal cuffs, which looked like the ones that had been used on Steve.

Bucky lowered his arms from over his head, holding them out for the men to put the cuffs on. He didn't break eye contact with Ross while the cuffs were encircled around his wrists and hands.

"He'll break out of those," Tony murmured next to Steve. "His metal hand is strong."

Steve silently agreed, watching as Ross directed his men to take Bucky away. He left willingly with them, throwing a look over his shoulder to Steve. He could see that Steve was seconds away from attempting to beat the glass door down with his fists, but with one look from Bucky, Steve stilled and watched as his friend was led away.

Ross watched as well, before turning and walking to where Steve and Tony stood.

Outside of the glass, he motioned for them to move back with a wave of his hand.

Steve took two steps back, seeing Tony do the same from the corner of his eye.

Ross punched the code into the keypad, one palm resting on the handle of the door. It opened a moment later, but Ross didn't enter.

"I'm keeping my word, Captain—,"

"This time," Tony muttered.

"—I'll give you the chance to say goodbye to Barnes before I release you."

"Where are you taking him?" Steve asked. "Back to his prison in the basement?"

Ross shook his head. "That prison is destroyed from the last time Barnes was in there."

Steve didn't bother asking how Ross planned on holding Bucky without the help of the thick glass box. It had barely held the first time when Zemo had spoken the words nine months before, and it clearly hadn't kept Bucky in when Everett did the same thing.

It was better for Steve if Ross didn't have a spare box lying around; it would be easier for them to all escape without the complications it presented.

But if he didn't have the box, then he probably planned something worse.

Steve pushed that thought away; he would deal with it when it became an immediate problem.

He allowed Ross' men to enter the room, placing metal cuffs on his hands and Tony's wrists.

Ross was smug as he led them out of the control room and up a few levels to where he was keeping Bucky.

The room that they entered was large and similar to the one that he and Sam had been put into. Bucky was on the other side of a large wall of thick glass that Steve knew was probably running with electric currents to keep Bucky from touching it.

Bucky's hands were still cuffed and he paced in front of the wall, waiting for Steve. He stilled when Steve and the others entered.

Steve gave Bucky a half smile before he checked out the rest of the room. The smile dropped away at the sight of lab equipment throughout. It reminded Steve of Tony and Bruce's lab back at the tower, but somehow it was more sinister with its white chair and multiple silver instruments.

Ross was called over by one of the men in white lab coats, but he spared a second warning Steve with a low, "Don't try anything, Captain. I don't want this to end in bloodshed."

He left Tony and Steve alone with several of his armed men, who nudged them forward to Bucky.

Steve ignored them, checking Bucky over.

"You're a jerk," Steve finally said, seeing that Bucky wasn't sporting any new bruises.

"Punk," Bucky shot back. "What did you expect me to do? Let Ross keep you all locked up? None of you deserve that." His eyes briefly rested on Tony, who had stepped back a few feet to give them some semblance at privacy, but could clearly hear the words. He gave Bucky a wide eyed look of surprise, but didn't say anything.

"We can figure a way out of this, Bucky," Steve said. "You're not going to stay locked up, I promise."

Bucky shrugged. "I won't always be locked up." His voice was bitter.

Steve leaned forward, inches from the pulsing glass.

"He's not using you as an assassin, Bucky," Steve said lowly. "He wants to make more of you."

Bucky frowned. "He can't make more of me. Do you know how many people tried to duplicate what happened to you? You're more of a super human than me. Whatever was done to me can't be repeated. I don't even think Zola knew what he was doing." Bucky's mouth curled over Zola's name. "He just somehow ended up making me. More of an accident than actual science."

"He's going to try anyway," Tony said, joining the conversation. "Ross has wanted to make super soldiers for as long as I can remember."

Both Steve and Bucky eyed Tony in quiet surprise.

Tony shrugged. "You're not the first person he's hunted down, Barnes."

Steve frowned. "Who?"

"Bruce," Tony said. "Why do you think he was hiding out in some city halfway across the world? He was chased there by Ross. Ross gave up after Bruce became part of the team, but he never gave up on his stupid idea of making the perfect soldier."

"So he's planning on using me?" Bucky said. He shook his head. "Idiot."

Tony cracked a dry smile. "That's what I've been saying."

Ross' voice rose behind them, but they all pointedly ignored him.

"Where's Sam?" Steve asked.

"I left him behind," Bucky said. "I didn't want him getting caught up in all this. Besides, if you want to get out of here, you're going to need someone on the outside."

" _We_ are getting out," Steve corrected. "And that was smart thinking."

Bucky glared at him, but wasn't able to say anything.

Ross stomped over, his displeasure clear from his posture and dark frown.

"Where's the book, Barnes?" he demanded, getting in between Steve and Bucky.

* * *

Bucky couldn't help the slight smile that played across his lips. After Ross had gone back on his agreement, it was nice to mess up his plans a little.

"The Red Book?" Bucky asked. "I don't have it."

"I told you to bring it," Ross snapped. "I know that you had it, but my men just informed me that all you had on you was a few dozen knives. Where is it?"

"I just told you I don't have it," Bucky said slowly and clearly.

Rage flickered through Ross' eyes and face, and his hands clenched down at his sides.

"I asked for your surrender and the book in exchange for Captain Rogers and his men to leave," Ross said after gaining control of his anger.

"Sucks, doesn't it," Tony spoke up from Steve's side, "to have someone fuck you over."

Ross looked at Tony, nodding to his men behind the billionaire. They reached forward, jerking Tony away from Steve.

"Hey, wait," Tony said, struggling in the men's large arms.

"Ross, don't," Steve warned, stepping towards Tony.

"I asked for two things," Ross said. "I've only received one. I'm afraid that means only one of you is going free."

"Let Tony go," Steve said, turning back to Ross. "I'm not leaving Bucky."

Ross held up a hand, halting his men's trek across the room with Tony. He and Steve had a long moment's staring contest.

"Fine, let Stark go. Captain Rogers stays with me," Ross said, motioning for Tony to be released. He eyed Tony. "If you don't leave immediately, I will have my men hunt you down and you'll be back where you started."

Tony ripped his arms out of the soldiers' grips, glaring at Ross. His eyes traveled from Ross to Bucky, his eyes flashing.

"You said, you'd give me closure," Tony said. "I want it."

Steve and Bucky exchanged looks; this wasn't expected.

Ross' eyebrows rose.

"I'm not going to let you kill him, Stark. I still need him."

Tony shrugged. "I don't need to kill him."

"Then what do you want?"

"Just let me punch him a few times and we'll call it good."

Ross laughed. "You'll break your hand on his face."

"Let me use my Iron Man glove," Tony said. "Then I'll break his face with my hand."

Ross paused, considering it. He finally nodded.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, Stark," Ross said, standing back from the wall. He pulled Steve's unresisting form with him.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, silently asking what he should do.

Steve shook his head, warning Bucky not to do anything drastic and to let Tony go through with whatever it was he wanted.

"Wait," Ross said, as Tony stepped forward. The other man froze, looking back over his shoulder to Ross. "I'm not opening the door without insurances."

"What type of insurances?" Steve demanded from Ross' side.

Ross motioned for Steve to be taken away from his side as he moved to the table with several screens set up.

"I may not have the Red Book with the written words, but I do have Everett actually speaking them."

Bucky's eyes widened and he felt Tony's do the same from where he stood only a few feet away from the wall.

He rapidly shook his head.

"No."

Ross smirked. "I'm afraid so, Sergeant. I'm not letting you free again without some control over you."

"You _can't_ control him," Steve snapped from where he was surrounded by Ross' soldiers. "It didn't work for Everett and it won't work for you."

"Would you prefer I kill him, Captain?" Ross asked mildly. "I believe that this is the more reasonable of the two options."

He clicked at a few keys at the computer, head bowed low.

Bucky's eyes rolled wildly from Steve to Ross, helpless again in his cage.

His breath was heaving from his chest as he tried to think of a way out of this.

"Hey."

Bucky's head snapped up, catching Tony's eyes.

"It's going to be okay," Tony said lowly. "We're not going to let you hurt anyone. _I'm_ not going to let you hurt Steve. I promise."

Bucky's breath evened as he stared at Tony's unblinking eyes.

"Stay out of my way," he finally said. "If Ross sets me on either of you—."

"He won't," Tony cut in. "It'll be okay."

Speakers overhead blared to life and Everett's voice came through: "желание."

Bucky's body stiffened as the word washed over him. He didn't know what would happen when he woke up again; he only hoped that he wouldn't find his hands red with Steve's blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprisingly okay with this chapter, even though I feel like there are things in here that probably wouldn't happen (like Tony could probably bust them out of that glass room), but all of this is happening for a reason.  
> The next chapter is going to be a doozy, and I know it's going to be a lot of work, but hopefully, it'll only take me a week to write it.  
> Also, I think that I've only got two more chapters. Maybe three. So we're nearing the end of this story.  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments from antivol, alysha, and Mdani18!


	13. Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

Tony watched in horror as the Russian words continued to echo from the speakers and wash over Bucky's ridged form. At first Ross had used the recording from Everett, but after the first word he began to speak the words himself.

Bucky had tried to fight against them, screaming and raging against the wall with his cuffed hands, but after the first pulse of electricity off the wall sent him on his ass, he stopped.

Tony vaguely heard Steve shouting behind him, begging Ross to stop, but Ross didn't and Steve was silenced with a gag or something.

Bucky sat on the floor with his knees drawn up and head bowed low. With each word, Bucky's moves stilled a little more until he was completely frozen.

Tony watched with some morbid fascination as the words slowly stopped and Bucky deliberately stood up, uncurling his neck to look out into the white room.

His blue eyes were emotionless as he looked out at Tony.

Tony's mouth opened at the complete and utter void in Bucky's eyes that had once been filled with life.

"Готовы соблюдать." _Ready to comply._

Tony jerked at the sound of Bucky's voice through the glass. The Russian sounded perfect coming from his lips, as if he had always spoken it.

When Tony didn't say anything, Bucky's brow furrowed, the first sign of any emotion from the other man.

"готовы соблюдать," he repeated with slightly more force.

"Soldier," Ross said, coming from around the table to stand next to Tony. His eyes were glued to Bucky's, amazement shining from them.

Tony watched as Bucky's eyes almost seemed to flicker as he turned his gaze to Ross.

"Yes," Bucky said, the Russian disappearing into English. "I am ready to comply."

"You will obey me, and only me," Ross said. "Do you understand?"

"Understood," Bucky replied.

"I am going to open this door," Ross said, hand inches from the glass wall's door. "You will exit the room and stand still."

Bucky nodded, moving to the door and waiting for Ross to open it.

Ross motioned for some of his men to come forward, in case Bucky was faking the compulsion and attacked them, which was smart on Ross' part, but Tony didn't think Bucky was faking. He had never seen a man look so cold and uncaring, but at the same time so blank and emotionless.

But when the door opened, Bucky did as Ross ordered. He walked out and stood in front of Ross, waiting for further instruction.

Ross leaned forward, unlocking the cuffs from Bucky's hands. Holding the metal in his hands, he turned to Tony, triumph glinting in his eyes.

"He'll do as I say," he said. "Do what you need to do. Just don't kill him."

With a nod of his head, Ross and his men moved back away from Bucky.

Tony swallowed, stepping forward into Ross' recently vacated place.

When he had asked Ross for a chance to beat Bucky to a pulp, he hadn't actually wanted to do it (well, yes, a part of him still wanted to); he had wanted to give Bucky and Steve a chance to fight their way out of this. But Ross was slightly smarter than Tony gave him credit for and now Tony didn't know what to do.

Tony tugged at his watch, his red and gold hand sprouting out across his skin. It covered his hand and wrist, but stopped before it could encase his forearm.

Bucky watched with disinterest as Tony moved forward to stand directly in front of him.

"Barnes?" Tony asked quietly, looking for some reaction from the other man.

Bucky's eyes flicked to Tony's for a brief moment before looking over Tony's head to Ross.

Ross nodded. "Do not move, whatever this man does."

"Understood," Bucky said.

Tony had been about to ask if there was still any part of Bucky left in the shell of a man that stood before him, but Bucky was gone, replaced by the Winter Soldier.

Anger flared in Tony's chest, rising to burn against his cheeks. _This_ was the man that had killed his parents. This was the last face that Howard had seen before blood had filled his vision. The flesh hand that rested down at the Winter Soldier's side was the last feeling Maria had against her neck.

Tony' own hand clenched against his thigh, metal fingers tightening against each other.

"You killed them," he said lowly. "Not Bucky, _you_."

Bucky remained silent, staring at Tony.

With a low growl, Tony's fist shot out, metal hitting flesh.

Bucky's head snapped back, but straightened just as quickly. Blood poured from his nose, which somehow wasn't broken.

He made no move to defend himself, Ross' command holding him in place.

If anything, that only made Tony angrier. Again, his fist shot out, ramming against the side of Bucky's head.

But that wasn't enough.

The anger in Tony still burned, so he kept going, hitting Bucky again and again.

Abruptly, Tony became aware of his surroundings.

"Tony, stop! Please stop," Steve's voice was free from any gag and was broken, as if he had been begging Tony to stop for hours instead of minutes.

Tony looked from his blood stained fist to Bucky's blank, but bruised and bloody face.

He swallowed, dropping his hand back to his side. This isn't what he wanted.

"Are you done, Stark?" Ross asked behind him.

"Almost," Tony managed to throw over his shoulder. An idea was forming, not quite complete and possibly not even necessary, but he had to do something.

For the last time, Tony snapped out his fist, hitting Bucky's neck.

Bucky's eyes widened, air freezing in his lungs as his throat seized.

Tony's flesh hand brushed against Bucky's chest, just under the neck of his shirt, as he shoved the other man away from him.

"There," he said, turning. "Now I'm done."

His kept his eyes on the ground, not sure he wanted to see the look that Steve was giving him.

"Good," Ross said, "I'm glad I was able to keep some of our original agreement."

Tony eyed the other man, who stood at the desk. Ross looked smug and even happy with the outcome of Tony's actions.

"The wounds you inflicted on him will give us the time to see his healing rate, so you've helped me, Stark," Ross added.

Tony swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat; why had he ever agreed to help this man? Pain and the thirst for revenge had blinded him to the type of man Ross truly was. He should have kept Ross on hold when the other man had called to ask for his help. He should have realized that this Ross was the same General Ross that had tracked Bruce halfway across the world.

Tony moved away from Ross to stand in front of Steve. He slowly let his eyes rise from the ground to meet Steve's.

The horror and anger that burned in Steve's blue eyes didn't surprise Tony, but it still hurt to see it directed at him.

"I want to talk to Steve before I leave," Tony called out to Ross.

Ross waved a hand, not caring what Tony did now; his focus was completely on Bucky, who stood motionless where Tony had left him. Ross looked like he had just won the jackpot as he reached out to gently prod at the side of Bucky's bleeding head.

Steve looked over Tony's head, glaring at Ross with disgust.

"I'm sorry," Tony murmured as the men around Steve backed up to give them some space. "I didn't know what do to."

"You didn't have to beat him bloody," Steve hissed, eyes flashing. "What the hell were you doing? Ross was going to let you go."

"I wanted to give you both a chance to get out. I thought that if they opened his cell door, Bucky would be able to break out of the cuffs," Tony said. "I'm sorry, Steve, but this was the only way to keep Ross thinking that I was maybe on his side."

Steve still looked suspicious and angry, but it was starting to dim.

"So what are you going to do?" Steve asked. "Ross is going to let you go."

"I'm not leaving you," Tony shot back. "We're all getting out of this, Steve."

"I don't know if that's possible anymore," Steve said. "Bucky's gone. At least for now, and we don't know how long the words have control over him."

"About that," Tony said, "I was thinking about the last time we ran into Bucky when he was like this. He didn't respond to us until we knocked him out, right?"

"Right," Steve answered cautiously.

"So I thought maybe I could knock him out," Tony said, though that wasn't quite the truth; he had really just wanted to beat the Winter Soldier senseless. "But it didn't work. Clearly. So now I'm thinking that it has something to do with the people he knows."

Steve frowned, but didn't object.

"You told us that when you fought Bucky on the helicarrier, he eventually started to recognize you and then he saved you from the water," Tony paused. "I think that you might be able to get through to him in this state too."

"So you want me to talk to him?" Steve asked. He shook his head. "I don't think that's going to work, Tony."

"No, I want you to fight him, while you talk to him," Tony said. "The increased adrenaline and familiar voice might help him break out of whatever those words do to him."

"That's enough, Stark," Ross' voice rang out behind them. "Now you need to leave and don't come back."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered. He gently touched a finger to Steve's cuffs.

He locked eyes with Steve. "Do it, Rogers, and then get up to the roof."

That was all he managed before Ross' men pulled him away from Steve and the room.

* * *

Steve watched as Tony was led out of the room, presumably to go to the roof, like he had told Steve to do.

Steve pulled his eyes away from Tony to where Ross stood in front of Bucky.

Blood trickled down from Bucky's nose and the side of his head, soaking into his hair and the collar of his dark shirt.

Bucky didn't look like he was aware of what had happened to his face; he didn't show any sign of pain.

Ross, clearly fascinated by that, was carefully prodding each wound on Bucky's face, testing for any kind of reaction from the other man.

The most that Bucky gave him a twisting of his lips and tightening of his eyes, but no sound came from him.

"Amazing," Ross murmured.

"You bastard," Steve snapped. "You lying bastard."

Ross turned. "I didn't lie, Rogers, I said he could leave. And he will. Just not yet."

"Bucky," Steve said, looking to his friend. "Please tell me you're in there."

Ross didn't interrupt, curious about what Bucky would do too.

Bucky eyed Steve over Ross' head.

"I'm not Bucky," he finally said.

"Bucky, please," Steve tried again.

Ross stepped away from Bucky, eyes flitting from one man to the other. It was as if he knew Steve was about to do something stupid.

Steve spared a brief moment to pray that Tony wasn't wrong before he surged forward, hands ripping from their cuffs, thanks to Tony, who had put some piece of tech on the cuffs to weaken them enough for Steve to break out of them.

Ross stumbled back in surprise, giving the two men space.

"Defend yourself, Soldier," Ross barked at Bucky, who raised his hands in time to ward off Steve's first punch.

Steve could feel Ross' men starting forward behind him, but Ross held them back with a wave of his hand; he wanted to see how Bucky would handle himself against Steve.

Steve felt another small wave of anger at Ross for that, but he couldn't devote much time it as Bucky began to fight back.

Bucky's metal fist flew at Steve's face, just brushing it as Steve jerked back. But then his flesh fist came at Steve from the other side, this time hitting its mark.

Steve's cheek stun from the impact, but he hardly noticed the pain as he concentrated on dodging Bucky's furious blows with less lethal hits of his own.

Between grunts of pain, Steve continued to talk. It was mostly meaningless noise, words to try to jog Bucky's memory, and it didn't seem to be doing much.

Bucky's blue eyes were dark and impassive even as each punch from Steve landed on him. He didn't flinch when Steve's hand collided with the side of his head, snapping it to the side. Instead, he countered with one of his own; his dark metal hand landed against Steve's stomach, causing Steve to double over in pain.

Still hunched over, Steve threw himself forward, knocking into Bucky. They staggered backward a few steps before toppling to the ground.

Bucky landed on the floor first, head snapping back against the tiled floor with a wet sound.

Steve winced at the blood that began to leak out from under Bucky's dark hair. He tried to ignore it, burying his hands into Bucky's shirt, pinning the other man to the floor with his superior weight and strength.

"Bucky," Steve growled into the other man's face, "snap out of it. I can't keep this up."

And he couldn't. It hurt to see the blood pooling around Bucky's head and the bruises that were beginning to blossom on Bucky's skin.

Tony's plan had seemed crazy and not really possible when he had hissed it at Steve, but it had been the only plan that they had and Steve hadn't been willing to let it go without at least trying.

Now that he had gone through with it, Steve wasn't sure that he should have. It seemed like he was causing more pain than good.

"Bucky, wake up!" Steve yelled, digging his hands deeper into Bucky's shirt. "Wake up, dammit."

It wasn't going to work. Bucky wasn't going to snap out of the daze and Ross would grow tired of watching them fight and then Steve would be taken away and thrown into some cell where he would never see Bucky again.

"Bucky, please," Steve whispered, head bowing briefly.

Under him, Bucky looked up, struggling to buck Steve off him. His eyes flickered with the first sign of emotion Steve had seen from him.

Confusion radiated from Bucky, although it didn't stop Bucky from sending punches up to meet Steve's face.

One from his metal fist sent Steve reeling backwards. In a flash, Bucky was out from under him and had switched places, this time with Steve under him.

Both hands curled around Steve's neck, squeezing the breath from him.

Steve's eyes widened and his fingers clawed at the metal and flesh hands that were killing him. But they wouldn't budge; they were iron around his neck.

His lungs contracted and demanded more air; air that Steve couldn't give.

* * *

Bucky was screaming. His voice was hoarse from the wordless yell that was tearing from his throat.

His fists were bloody from where he was pounding them against the glass of his mind.

The wall of glass separated Bucky from the Winter Soldier and he couldn't get through.

Fucking Ross had spoken the words, forcing the wall back up; Bucky had lost control of his own mind almost the moment Ross had spoken the first word.

Steve was out there, struggling to breath as the Winter Soldier choked the life out of him. And Bucky was inside, behind the wall, with no way to stop it.

Useless. He was fucking _useless_.

With another scream, Bucky beat his fist against the glass again. Blood sprayed from his knuckles and stained the clear wall.

"Come on," he yelled. "Let me out."

His words echoed through the small room, bouncing against the glass.

"Come _on_ ," he repeated, slapping his open palm to the glass with each word. "I need to stop this."

With a defeated yell, Bucky pressed his bowed head to the glass. Both of his hands were spread against the glass on either side of his head, unmoving after Bucky's earlier attempts to claw through the glass.

"Steve," Bucky choked out.

Abruptly, the glass cracked under his hands.

Bucky jerked away, pulling his hands from the wall and for a moment, he only stared at the spider webbed cracks, unable to believe that it was finally starting to give way.

"Bucky, please," Steve's rough and faint voice tore through the cracks, widening them.

"Steve," Bucky shouted, fingers tearing at the cracks. "Steve, I won't let him kill you. I promise."

The glass wall was coming down.

* * *

Bucky blinked and the Winter Soldier was gone.

With a strangled gasp, Bucky let go of Steve's neck, letting his friend's head loll to the side.

Steve choked and gasped for breath beneath him, hands clutching at his bruising neck. His body arched under Bucky, as he struggled to get air into his lungs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bucky said, the apologies stumbling out, one after the other.

He shoved away from Steve, crawling backwards while still facing Steve.

Steve sat up, hunching over as he coughed. He eyed Bucky, wariness shining through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with relief.

"Bucky?" Steve asked, throat bobbing painfully against the word.

"It's me," Bucky said, almost as if he couldn't believe it either. "It's me."

With a relieved laugh, Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulders, pulling them both up to a standing position.

He tugged Bucky into a tight embrace, locking his arms around Bucky.

"I thought you were gone," Steve said from over Bucky's shoulder. His chin dug into Bucky, but Bucky didn't care. He was back and Steve was alive.

"I was gone," Bucky said, almost laughing. "But I got out."

They pulled out of the embrace, keeping each other at arm's length.

Steve wore a confused frown, but he didn't ask Bucky to clarify the statement.

"What the hell did you do?" Ross demanded, reminding them exactly where they were. "Rogers?" he paused. "You broke him."

Both Steve and Bucky turned to the other man, anger flashing in their eyes.

"No asshole," Bucky snapped, "he fixed me."

Ross glared back at them, no one moving for a brief moment. Then he jabbed two fingers at them.

"Kill Rogers and bring me Barnes."

Bucky spared a moment to marvel at how insane Ross sounded before he jerked into action.

Grabbing the front of Steve's shirt, he shoved them both towards the exit, which of course was blocked by several of Ross' men.

They had guns, which was both good and bad for them; they were supposed to kill Steve, but not Bucky, which meant that Bucky led the way, keeping Steve behind him.

Barreling into the men, Bucky sent them flying in different directions, most of them falling easily away.

As much as Ross was probably paying them, he really couldn't expect the men to face down both Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

The door practically exploded outward as Bucky and Steve ran out. They didn't bother to see if anyone was chasing them; Ross wasn't going to let them go that easily.

They ran down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, keeping pace with each other.

Shots rang out behind them, and Bucky slowed so that he was running directly behind Steve, effectively stopping anymore bullets from flying at them; Ross' men didn't want to hit him by mistake.

"Where are we going?" Bucky yelled as they ran. "We can't keep this up. One of them will get lucky eventually and hit you."

"The roof," Steve called over his shoulder. "We're going to the roof."

Bucky flashed his teeth into a smile. "Sam's up there."

"Sam?"

"I told Sam to get to the roof if he could and wait thirty minutes for you and Stark."

"Tony told me to go up there too," Steve said, almost laughing. Finally, they were catching a break.

The humor vanished a moment later as the entrance to the roof came into view, obstructed by CIA agents. They looked nervous, but determined.

"Hold it right there," one of the men said, raising a hand in an attempt to stop Steve and Bucky from barreling into them. "We don't want to shoot you, Captain."

"You've got to be kidding me," Bucky muttered. "Keep going, Steve."

"I wasn't planning on stopping," Steve shot back.

The agent's eyes widened as the two large men kept coming at him, instead of stopping like he had commanded.

"Shit."

The agents didn't raise their weapons to take them down; while Bucky was watching Steve's back from Ross' men, Steve was covering Bucky from everyone else.

With a cry, the agents dove out of the way, freeing the doorway for Bucky and Steve to pound through it.

As they ran up the stairs, the last leg of their mad dash to the roof, Bucky checked behind them.

"I don't see the agents. I don't think they're following us."

"Ross probably didn't fill them in on what he's been doing," Steve called over his shoulder. "They didn't want to shoot me."

Bucky could hear the smile in Steve's voice, answering with one of his own, even though Steve couldn't see it. There was no way that Ross could have counted on the CIA agents to bring in Captain America, a national hero, so he probably only told them the bare details: insane Russian assassin was on the loose, don't let him get away.

Steve burst through the door, almost blinding Bucky with the dying light that streamed through.

Blinking rapidly, Bucky followed Steve out onto the landing platform, slowing to a jog.

"It's about time," a voice rang out from their side. "Stark and I've been waiting."

"Sam," Steve greeted with a grin.

Sam and Tony waited at the edge of the platform, a helicopter sitting behind them.

Sam jerked his chin to the metal bird.

"It was all I could get my hands on in short notice." This was directed to Bucky, surprising Steve slightly.

Bucky shrugged, moving forward.

"I said to find something that could fly."

"It'll have to do," Tony put in coming to meet them. "We need to blow this Popsicle stand before—."

The door to the roof banged open, cutting off the rest of Tony's words.

"Shit," Bucky snapped, shoving Steve towards Sam and Tony. He then spun to face Ross and his men, who had stopped only a few feet from the door.

Ross was holding out a hand to Bucky, as if Bucky was a wild animal that needed to be calmed.

Bucky glared at him, giving the hand a contemptuous snort.

"Perhaps I was too hasty," Ross finally said, dropping his hand back to his side.

"You think?" Steve shot out from behind Bucky.

"Men," Ross said, nodding to the armed soldiers that surrounded him, "stand down. Your orders have changed. Do not kill Rogers."

"Kill Steve?" Tony asked incredulously. "Are you insane?"

Bucky jerked his chin in agreement with Tony's words; Ross was going off the deep end.

"You do that, Ross," Tony continued, "and you lose everything."

"I realize that killing Captain Rogers is a mistake. He's a hero that I'm proud to have met—."

"Cut the shit, Ross," Tony interrupted.

Bucky silently cheered him on, but kept his focus on Ross, the real threat.

"You don't care about Steve. You care about what would happen if you did manage to kill him. The country's goodwill would turn against you. Everything that you've tried to build would be lost."

"And, _I'd_ kill you," Bucky interjected. "You touch him and I kill you."

"And that," Tony agreed, coming to stand next to Bucky. They exchanged a quick look. "Not only would you lose your life's work, you'd also lose your life. And no one would stop Barnes. Not me, not the government."

Ross snorted. "Your point is made, Stark. I touch Rogers, I die."

Steve moved to Bucky's other side, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What are you going to do now?" From anyone else it would've sounded like a challenge, but from Steve it was an honest question.

Ross' eyes flickered to him, but defeat didn't shine in them like Bucky would have thought.

Bucky tensed, arm reaching out to Steve, but the attack from Ross wasn't directed to Steve.

"Stark," Ross said suddenly, "are you really willing to join forces with the man who killed your parents? Are you willing to disrespect their memory like that?"

From beside him, Tony stilled. His eyes were hard as he stared at Ross.

Bucky could see the thoughts churning inside Tony's mind, weighing the pros and the cons.

Bucky could understand Tony's side; he always had. It didn't matter how long ago he had killed Howard and Maria; the wound was still fresh to Tony.

For years Tony had thought it was some freak accident that had killed his parents, and he may not have liked that, but he accepted it as best as he was able and tried to move on. Finding out that a long dead member of Steve's Howling Commandos had actually murdered them in cold blood for the serum that Howard had made must have shaken Tony to the core. And then, immediately after finding out the truth about his parents, he had found out that Steve had kept it from him for more than a year. That type of betrayal wasn't something that Tony could just shake off; he had been betrayed by so many people and for the betrayal to happen from someone that he had trusted so completely must have broken something inside of him.

Bucky wouldn't blame Tony if he decided to switch sides again. Hell, he probably would if he was in Tony's position.

"No," Tony finally said, jarring Bucky from his thoughts. "I'm not disrespecting them. Howard loved Steve like a brother and spent most of his life trying to recreate the serum that made Steve into Captain America. He didn't talk much about Bucky or the rest of the Howling Commandos, but when he did it was with the utmost respect for them. So, no," Tony continued, "I'm not disrespecting my parents by standing by my friends."

"Suit yourself," Ross sniffed. "You may feel that way now, but give it time, Stark. Soon you'll be wondering why you ever stood by your parents' killer."

"Just shut up," Steve said wearily. "You've lost, Ross. Just accept it and let us go."

"Let you go?" Ross laughed. "Why would I let you go when all you have is a helicopter and a few weapons?"

"You think we won't use them on you?" Sam spoke up for the first time.

Focus shifted on the other man. He now sat in the pilot's chair, facing Ross and his men with a rifle pressed against his shoulder.

"Ah, Wilson," Ross said as if he had just noticed the other man. "Sometimes I forget that you exist, just like Captain Rogers, I'm sure."

Sam almost rolled his eyes; Bucky could see the effort it took Sam not to.

"Your loyalty to Rogers is admirable, but what good is coming from it?" Ross continued, calling out to Sam. "Steve doesn't care about you the way he cares about Bucky. He never will. So why—."

"Shut the hell up, man," Sam snapped, cutting Ross off. He didn't bother saying anything else. It had been a weak attempt on Ross' part to break Sam away from Steve; Sam would never abandon his friend, no matter what.

Ross sighed, turning back to Bucky.

"That's that, then," he said.

"Are you going to let us leave?" Steve asked cautiously.

Ross eyed them for a moment before shaking his head.

"No." He turned to his men. "Kill all of them expect for Barnes."

Bucky, expecting this, shot both his arms out, shoving Steve and Tony away from him.

They landed in heaps on the ground, Steve rolling to his feet almost immediately.

Tony crawled from the ground to the edge of the helicopter, managing to gain a little cover before the first few bullets flew his way.

From above them, Sam threw a pistol down to Steve, who deftly caught it in one hand, spinning to fire it at Ross' men.

All this happened in seconds, leaving Bucky and Ross staring at each other, alone in the middle of the landing pad.

Bucky bared his teeth at Ross, all the warning the other man had, before charging him.

Ross' eyes widened slightly before Bucky knocked into him, throwing them both to the hard ground.

The wind knocked out of Ross and he gasped for breath as Bucky raised his metal fist. It glinted in the fading sun as he glared down at Ross.

Ross' mouthed worked as he realized that Bucky could easily kill him with a few punches of his metal hand.

Tears leaked from the corners of Ross' eyes, trailing down into his hair.

"Please," he whispered, his breath coming back to him. "Don't kill me."

"I told you," Bucky hissed back. "I'd kill you if you touched Steve. The same goes for Sam and Tony."

"I'll let them go," Ross said hoarsely. "I'll let you all go."

"That's not good enough," Bucky said simply. His metal arm whirred, as if it was anticipating Bucky's next action.

"Bucky, no!" Steve's voice rang out above the sound of bullets.

Bucky's head jerked around, catching sight of his friend, who was hunched behind some metal box that had been left on the roof.

"Don't kill him," Steve shouted over the top of the box. "You don't have to kill him."

Bucky's fist hesitated in the air. Steve's words were clear: you don't have to be a killer anymore. You have control of your life. You can make the choice not to kill now.

Is that what he wanted? He had never wanted to be a killer, a puppet to be used by others, but if he didn't kill Ross, Ross wouldn't stop coming for him. Ross was dangerous if left alive.

Killing Ross would protect Steve.

But killing Ross might break Bucky.

Bucky shook his head roughly. He wouldn't let this kill affect him like the others had. This kill was _his_ choice.

Shit.

His choice? His first choice since being completely free of the words and Hydra and it was to kill?

"Fuck," Bucky grounded out.

Under him, Ross relaxed, realizing that the silent war that had been waging in Bucky had been decided in his favor.

Bucky jerked away from Ross, leaving him lying on the ground. He staggered towards the edge of the platform, away from Steve and the others.

Abruptly the shooting stopped, the silence heavy in the air.

"Bucky," Ross said, now standing. His suit was rumpled, but that was the only sign of his almost death. "This can end now."

"Yeah, it can," Tony suddenly said, coming out from behind the helicopter. His finger tapped against his watch, as he gave Bucky a long, heavy stare.

Bucky frowned, jerking slightly. He cocked his head to the side as he stared back at Tony.

Tony turned to Steve, nodding at Bucky.

"Shoot him."

"Excuse me," Steve said, eyes widening.

"You heard me," Tony said, holding Steve's eyes with his own. "Shoot him. This will never be over. Ross won't stop hunting us until Bucky is either dead or locked up."

"Wait," Ross said, stepping forward. "This isn't what I—."

"Stay back," Tony snapped, holding up a hand to stall Ross.

Ross froze, staring at Tony before flicking his gaze to Steve.

"Don't do it, Rogers. You can't kill your friend."

Steve ignored Ross, his focus completely on Tony.

"Tony?" he asked.

"Trust me," Tony said. "Please trust me, Steve."

"Do it," Bucky suddenly spoke up, bringing the attention to him.

He stood stiffly at the edge of the roof. He nodded at Steve.

"Do what Tony says. He's right. Ross will never stop hunting us. At least this way, I get to choose how I die."

Steve's throat bobbed, but his pistol went up, aiming at Bucky.

"Shoot him," Tony said, tapping a finger to his chest. "Shoot him through his heart. It'll be quick."

"No," Ross yelled. "Don't you do it, Rogers."

"Do it," Bucky shouted, voice overcoming Ross'. "Do it now, Steve."

Steve's mouth tightened and his eyes hardened.

"I trust you, Tony," he said. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't," Tony promised.

"Steve," Bucky said, as Ross finally figured out that he still had men with weapons of their own. "You can't wait. Shoot me now!"

Steve's finger tightened around the trigger, sending a bullet flying into Bucky's chest.

Bucky's whole body curved with the impact of the bullet and for a moment, he hung suspended in that shape. But then his legs gave way, staggering back until there was no more roof for him to walk on and he toppled backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, sorry about not posting last week. I was really busy and didn't have the time to finish up this chapter. Speaking of this chapter, I'm not sure I actually like it, which is dumb because this is what I've been building to this whole time. I mean, I like it, but I don't think it's good enough. What do you guys think?
> 
> Also, it's super late and I'm not sure I edited this chapter very well...hopefully, it all makes sense.
> 
> Lastly, I have the next and last chapter written already (go me). I'm wondering if I should post it right away this weekend, or wait until next week to post it on the normal day. Thoughts?
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments from CUPCAKEQUEEN, alysha, antivol, maxibatts, cerrdwyn, mynameisbuckybarnes, and friendlydeathray. I love them all.


	14. I'm Going to be an Optimist About This

"No," Ross shouted, running forward with a hand outstretched, as if he could physically pull Bucky back up from the edge.

He halted at the very corner of the roof; Steve and Tony weren't far behind him.

All three of them stood at the edge of the roof, staring down at where Bucky's body had hit the water below. Ripples lapped against the wall that held the water; the only indication that Bucky had fallen.

Even as they stared, no body floated to the surface.

"You killed him," Ross said after a long beat. He turned to Steve and Tony, eyes wide and furious. "You actually _killed_ him."

"And before you do anything rash," Tony said, taking a step back. "Consider this: you try and stop us from leaving and I will alert my friends in the government that you made an attempt on Captain Rogers' life after he stopped a dangerous assassin from escaping."

Ross snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where's your proof?"

It was Tony's turn to snort. "C'mon, man, it's me you're talking to here. You really think I don't have some camera somewhere up here?" he paused. "Is that a chance you're really willing to take?"

Ross held Tony's gaze, eyes flickering to Steve, who stared back impassively.

Ross rocked back on his heels, demeanor relaxing back into the man in charge. He slid his hands into the pockets of his grey pants.

"You're mighty calm for just killing your best friend, Rogers."

Steve didn't move; his face was carefully blank and emotionless.

"It was what he wanted," Steve said between stiff lips.

And it had been. Bucky had asked Steve to shoot him. Bucky had actually agreed with _Tony_ , of all people.

Steve shot Tony a sidelong look, but Tony gave nothing away. He had a smirk playing across his lips; the look of someone who had just soundly beaten his opponent.

"Bucky wanted to protect us from you," Steve added, jabbing a finger at Ross' chest. "As far as I'm concerned, you caused this." He let a little anger and hurt bleed into his voice.

Ross shrugged, and just like that, he had seemingly moved past the fact that Steve had shot Bucky, the man he had been chasing for months.

"What's done is done," Ross finally said. He turned on his heel, walking back to his men. He paused, throwing over his shoulder, "You're free to go home, Captain Rogers. You and your men."

Steve felt his surprise ripple across his face; he hadn't actually thought that Ross would let them go. Tony's threat had probably helped with that, but it was still a shock that Ross was just going to let them walk.

"That's it?" Steve couldn't help but demand. "All of this and you're just letting us go."

"Hey, Cap," Sam called from the helicopter. "Don't push it, man."

Steve waved a hand in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes glued to Ross' back.

Ross turned slightly so that he was eyeing Steve more fully.

"That's it, Captain. This started with the Accords, but it ended with Barnes."

With that, Ross continued walking. He and his men exited the landing platform, leaving Steve and the others alone in the fading sun.

With Ross gone, Steve turned back to the edge and dropped to his knees, staring down at the water. He swallowed roughly, glancing up to Tony.

"He's not dead." It wasn't a question. Steve trusted Tony; he had trusted him to the point of shooting his oldest friend in the chest. But that didn't mean he wasn't terrified that he had made a mistake and actually killed Bucky.

Tony shook his head, lowering himself to Steve's level.

"No," he said. "Bucky isn't dead."

Steve let out a shaky breath that he didn't release he had been holding. Trembling, Steve splayed his palms out on the ground next to him, holding himself steady.

Tony gripped Steve's shoulder with a hand, offering him support.

"We need to leave, Steve. Ross might have let us go because he thinks Bucky is dead, but clearly he's a madman and we need to get out while we can."

Steve nodded and together they both stood, standing shoulder to shoulder. Turning, they walked to the chopper that Sam had just fired up.

Sam's face was pale, the only indication of his reaction to the whole thing, but he didn't say anything until both Tony and Steve were safely strapped in.

With careful hands, the chopper rose into the air at Sam's touch.

The whirring of the blades overhead overwhelmed their senses, but that didn't stop Sam from shouting into his headset, "What the _hell_ just happened?"

* * *

Bucky was alive. He almost couldn't believe that he was, but the fact remained that he was sopping wet with a sore chest, waiting for Steve and the others to show up.

After hitting the water, Bucky had made sure to stay under long enough that no one would see him. After a few minutes, Bucky had surfaced and swam to the side. He had then pulled himself out and trekked his way through the dark to the warehouse that Sam and Steve had first put him in.

It wasn't where they had agreed to meet, but Bucky was cold and figured that Steve would remember the place and check it before they left the city.

Bucky was sitting in the dark with his back pressed against a brick wall. His legs were splayed out in front of him, black pants soaking and tight.

With his flesh hand, Bucky gently prodded his chest, fingering the round hole in his shirt.

With cold hands, Bucky carefully eased his dark shirt off, letting it drop next to him in a crumbled heap.

A red and gold metal vest hugged his chest, starting at his neck and ending above his hips.

He gently touched a finger to the breastplate, not really sure how it got there.

He had felt it expand across his chest when Tony had demanded Steve shoot him. The thin metal had slithered across his skin as Tony stared at him.

Bucky hadn't been sure what it was at the time, but he knew that he had to take a leap of faith and trust that Tony knew what he was doing.

And he did; Tony had a plan, a plan that worked. Bucky had successfully been shot and was presumed dead by Ross.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice rang out, echoing in the empty space. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," Bucky called out, voice catching slightly in his chest. He pressed a hand to the metal, feeling a bump caught in between the ridges.

He stood up, fingers tugging at the bump until it came loose. Bucky eyed the mangled bullet that lay in his palm. The bullet that had attempted to kill him, but ended up saving his life.

"Bucky."

Steve's arms were around him before he had a chance to even look up.

"You're alive," Steve mumbled, stress coloring his voice. "Tony said—,"

"I'm fine, Steve," Bucky interrupted, pulling back from his friend. "I'm fine."

"Nice digs," Tony said, coming forward. He nodded to the red and gold vest that covered Bucky's chest.

"What _are_ you wearing?" Sam asked from next to Tony.

Bucky shrugged. "Ask Tony."

"It's part of my suit," Tony said as if that was obvious. "I put it on him when I was beating the shit out of him."

Bucky frowned a little. "You beat the shit out of me?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, right. No way."

Tony half-heartedly glared at Sam. "Yes way, ye of little faith. But that's not the point. The point is that I slipped it under Bucky's shirt while Ross and everyone else was distracted."

"You slipped that whole metal vest on Bucky?" Sam asked incredulously.

Tony waved a hand. "No, of course not. I put a chip on him that later expanded into the vest you see now."

"So you expanded it when you told me to shoot him?" Steve asked from Bucky's side.

Tony nodded.

They all stared at the red and gold that adorned Bucky for a moment, hardly able to believe that they had pulled this off.

Sam strode forward, raising a hand to Bucky, who hesitantly slapped it with his own.

"I'm glad you're alive, man."

"Me too," Bucky said.

"Like you said," Sam continued, "we were just becoming friends. It would've been a shame if you'd dead."

"Whoa," Bucky said, echoing Sam's words from earlier. "Easy there with the f word." A grin stretched across his lips, one that Sam returned.

Bucky then gave Steve a look.

"Try not to look so happy, Steve."

Steve's own face was practically splitting from the grin that was etched on his lips.

"Don't tell me what to feel, Buck. I _am_ happy," Steve said shoving Bucky gently with his shoulder.

"Sorry to break into your happiness," Tony said, slightly awkwardly, "but we need to boogie. Home awaits us, after all."

Bucky blinked, while Sam and Steve exchanged looks.

"Home," Steve said, savoring the word. "We're finally going home."

Home. Bucky wasn't sure what that was; he hadn't had a home since before he fell into Hydra's clutches. Romania had been his home for a time, but he had lived there with the knowledge that it wouldn't last; he would have to leave when someone finally recognized him. But what he hadn't counted on was Steve being the one to actually find him.

Steve had found him and now, months later, they were going home.

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how he should act around Bucky. It had only been a week since they had gotten away from Ross and came back home to the U.S.

They had gone back to the Avengers base, most of it unoccupied, giving Bucky the space he needed to keep up the pretense of death.

Tony hadn't wanted to leave them after they had settled in; he had only just gotten his friends back.

So he had stayed.

But now, he was faced with Bucky, and only Bucky.

Bucky, for his part, was ignoring Tony. He was sitting at the kitchen counter, bowl of cereal in front of him. His long hair was pulled back into a messy bun that Sam had insisted on trying, claiming that he had practice with long hair because of his sisters.

Tony was surprised that Bucky hadn't ripped Sam's hands off when he first started tugging at the dark strands. Clearly, Bucky had come a long way.

With his hair out of his face, Bucky sat hunched over his bowl, bare feet tucked into the bars of the stool.

Tony eyed the grey sweat pants that hung loosely on Bucky's hips. A black tank top covered Bucky's chest, leaving his metal arm bare.

An involuntary shiver rippled through Tony at the sight of the glinting metal.

"You can sit down," Bucky's voice made Tony jump. So maybe he wasn't being ignored by the other man after all.

"Uh, I'm okay," Tony said, although he scooted closer to the counter. "Where's Steve and Sam?"

Bucky shrugged. "Not sure."

Tony hummed, fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

Bucky swirled his milk with his spoon, glaring down at the soggy cereal.

"What'd the cereal ever do to you?" Tony asked, almost wishing he could pull the words back as Bucky's glare turned to him.

"It's soggy," Bucky said, as if that was obvious. "I don't like it soggy."

His glare broke after a moment and a smile graced Bucky's features. Relief instantly washed over Tony; he wasn't sure that he would ever not be nervous around the former assassin.

"You were just screwing with me?" Tony asked.

Bucky nodded, still smiling. He pushed the bowl away. "But I really don't like soggy cereal." He made a face at the bowl.

"You gotta eat it faster," Tony said. "That way it won't get soggy."

Bucky sent Tony a look. "Yeah."

Tony could feel the waves of sarcasm coming from the other man; it almost seemed like Bucky's old personality was finally coming through. Obviously, there hadn't been time for Bucky to really show anyone who he really was. And if Tony was being honest, Bucky probably hadn't been ready to let his old self come through until now.

Bucky's gaze dropped and his hands twisted on the surface of the glossy counter.

"Something on your mind?" Tony asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Bucky said. He straightened, catching Tony's eyes. "I need to...I don't think I've actually told you that I'm sorry."

Tony stiffened.

"People keep giving you excuses for what happened to your parents. They tell you that I didn't know what I was doing, that I had been ordered to kill them, that I didn't have control of my mind," Bucky paused. "I'm not saying those things aren't true, but they weren't what you needed to hear."

Tony couldn't look away from Bucky. He stood frozen, listening to Bucky's words.

"What you needed from me is this: I'm sorry, Tony." Bucky leaned forward, pressing his arms to the counter. "I'm sorry that I couldn't break out of Hydra's control sooner. Because I was too weak, because I didn't have Steve, because of whatever reason, I couldn't stop myself from killing Howard and Maria, and for that I'm truly sorry."

Bucky stopped abruptly, leaning away.

After a long beat of silence, he stood up, shoving away from the counter.

Tony was frozen, watching Bucky walk away. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe Bucky had been avoiding him this whole time too.

Tony had accepted that Bucky hadn't been in control of his own mind when he had killed Howard and Maria, but for Bucky to acknowledge that and apologize for it was something that Tony didn't even know he had needed to hear.

His chest loosened and he let out a deep breath.

He had been angry for a long time and he had directed that anger at Bucky, but after seeing exactly how Hydra had been able to control Bucky, Tony knew that he couldn't continue with the blame and the anger.

Bucky never had a chance against Hydra and their damned words.

Which meant that Howard and Maria never had a chance.

"Bucky, wait," Tony called out. He jogged forward, stopping just behind Bucky. "You don't have to leave."

Bucky's back was stiff and he didn't make any move to turn around.

"We could, uh, have some more cereal." Tony winced; it had sounded better in his head.

Bucky snorted, finally turning.

"Cereal?"

"Yeah," Tony said, relieved at the breaking tension. "We could see who eats it the fastest."

Bucky's eyebrow arched. "Was that a challenge?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, confidence rising a few notches. "Yeah, it was, metal boy."

"Metal boy?"

Tony waved a hand. "It's the best I got right now."

Bucky shook his head, moving past Tony back to the counter. "Keep working on it. I'm not getting stuck with that for a nick name."

Tony smiled at Bucky's retreating back. He might not know how to act around Bucky, but given some time, it would get easier.

* * *

Steve couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Tony and Bucky were hunched over the counter, stools push aside, gulping down bowls of milk and cereal.

Steve watched from the doorway as Tony attempted to cheat by poking Bucky's side with a finger.

Bucky only swiped the hand away, sending Tony a glare as he continued to slurp down the milk in his bowl.

Seconds later, it was over.

Putting the bowl down, Bucky wiped his chin with a hand, still glaring at Tony.

"Fucking cheater."

Tony shrugged, not denying it.

"You still won," Tony said.

Bucky acknowledged it with a nod of his head, a smile playing on his face.

Without even looking towards Steve, Bucky called out, "You gonna stand there all day, Steve?"

Tony jerked a little, looking over Bucky's shoulder to Steve.

Steve pushed off from the doorframe, moving into the kitchen.

Tony cleared his throat, trying to move past the fact that he and Bucky had been having a cereal eating contest, which Steve had just witnessed.

"Where were you?" Tony asked after a beat, leaning his hip against the counter.

"Sam and I were just picking up some friends," Steve said, jerking his chin vaguely behind him.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Friends?"

"He's means us, loser," Clint Barton's voice rang out.

Clint, Natasha, and Wanda emerged from behind Steve; Sam trailing after them. All of them looked tired, cheeks faintly dirty, but happy to be back.

Tony grinned, only hesitating a second before coming forward.

"Birdman, it's good to see you," Tony said, clasping Clint's hand with his own.

"It's good to be back," Clint said. "It's been too long."

Natasha leaned forward, pushing Clint out of the way, to give Tony a hug. He stiffened under her arms, but a genuine smile broke out on his face as he returned the gesture.

"You look good, Stark," Natasha said.

Tony shrugged under her arms. "Thanks. You too."

When Natasha pulled back, Tony gave Wanda a careful look. She stood slightly behind Clint and Natasha, eyeing him impassively. Keeping her distance, she gave Tony a nod.

Steve inwardly sighed; it would take Wanda some time to forgive Tony for his actions against her and the others.

He didn't blame her; after all it had taken Tony saving their lives for him to forgive Tony.

But it also taken Tony time to move on and forgive Steve too. The blame had gone both ways.

For Wanda it was a little different; Tony had honestly thought that he was doing the right thing by locking her away.

He was wrong, but he hadn't realized that until later.

Forgiveness would come, but right now Wanda wasn't ready for it.

Tony cleared his throat, waving a hand to the counter where the abandoned bowls of cereal still sat.

"You guys hungry?"

"Are you kidding?" Clint demanded. "Hell, yes, I'm hungry. Do you know where we came from?"

Tony shrugged, moving further into the kitchen, pulling move bowls out from the cupboards.

"Just know that we didn't have readily available refrigerators," Clint said, following Tony. "Pain in my ass, man."

Tony pushed a box of cereal and gallon of milk towards Clint, Natasha, and Wanda who gratefully claimed stools at the counter.

The cereal was passed around and soon all that could be heard was the grateful munching of the food.

"So," Tony said, somewhat awkwardly. "Were you all traveling together or...?"

Wanda's head popped up from her bowl and she shot him a dark look; reminding Tony exactly why they had been "traveling."

Clint calmed her with a touch of his hand to her forearm.

She looked at Clint, having an intense staring contest with him, before she sighed and went back to her cereal.

"It was just Wanda and me for a bit," Clint said around a mouthful of milk and crushed flakes. "Nat found us about a month into our trip." He swallowed. "We stuck together after that."

No one dared to point out that it probably hadn't been the smartest for them to travel together. Especially since everyone at SHIELD knew how close Natasha and Clint were and would be looking for them together.

At this point, it didn't matter anymore; they had made it months without being found and now Ross had given them permission to come home.

Steve was going to make sure that they wouldn't have to live in fear of Ross' goodwill changing; he wasn't going to have his team split again.

But for now, it was just good to have everyone back.

"I'm glad you're all back," Steve said, breaking the tension. "This place just wasn't the same without everyone."

"Like I said," Clint said, saluting Steve with his spoon. "Glad to be back, Cap."

As they went back to their food, Steve turned his attention to Bucky, who stood at the edge of the group, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Avengers' reunion.

Steve crossed the space to stand next to him.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Bucky didn't turn to Steve, instead he watched as Clint started up a story in loud, animated tones about how he had fought a bull in Spain and apparently lived to tell the tale.

He snorted at Clint's wild arms and the fond, but exasperated look on both Natasha and Wanda's faces.

"Yeah," he finally said, turning to Steve. "I'm good."

"You'd tell me if you weren't, right?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. But don't worry. I'm okay." He paused. "I'm home."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, that's it. I had trouble with this chapter too, but I'm okay with how it turned out.
> 
> Sorry if I caused any pain with the last chapter's cliffhanger! I needed Ross to think that Bucky was dead. Speaking of Ross, I know that a lot of people wanted him to die. I didn't kill him off for a couple of reasons. The biggest was that I didn't want any of the characters do it, because if they did, I think it could have been the start of a dark path for them. Like I said in the last chapter, Bucky decided not to kill Ross because he knew that he couldn't kill someone like that without losing a part of himself. Does that make sense? (Also it was super dramatic to have Steve "shoot" Bucky, instead of Ross just dying).
> 
> Okay, so I just want to thank everyone who read this story! It was a very different experience for me to update each week, but with all of your comments and kudos I was able to get chapters done and posted quickly. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride because I sure did.
> 
> I'm definitely going to be writing more Marvel stories, but with school starting next week, I won't have time (I'm in a Novel Workshop class, so I won't have time to write fanfic). So I guess I'm saying that I'll be writing more stories, but just not for a bit.
> 
> Thanks again, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story wasn't supposed to happen. I originally just wanted to write a one-shot about Bucky, but it turned into this and now I'm planning out the rest of the story.  
> As usual, I'm a little nervous about posting this so any feedback would be awesome! Thanks!  
> (The chapter title is from a twenty one pilots song of the same name. It's an excellent song, actually they're an excellent band, so go check them out)


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